Fallout New Vegas: The United Mojave
by BrightunShiny
Summary: Four years have passed since the First Battle of Hoover Dam – four years of chaos for the Mojave and those who call it home. Now the Courier has a chance to end the conflict and bring stability to the wasteland. Two nations stand between him and the realization of this goal – one his foe, the other his ally. The unification of the Mojave has begun.
1. Intro

**My first attempt at a fanfiction. Thank you for giving it a chance.**

 **The PoV is omniscient third person, so I will be head jumping – just a warning and a preemptive apology if things get too confusing. I will make it as clear as possible which character is thinking what... or try to, anyway.**

 **This story will be violent. The violence has a purpose. I apologize if anything I write makes anyone uncomfortable. If a chapter has segments that are potentially problematic beyond violence, I will put a warning at the top of the chapter.**

 **I created a map to help with the logistics of the story. It is linked on my profile. Minor spoilers, but nothing too severe.**

 **I keep finding formatting errors when I re-read through old sections. For some reason spacing and the like is not being carried over, or is disappearing randomly over the course of the story. If you find something that seems out of place/that bothers you, I would really appreciate a private message or a review letting me know of the problem areas. Thank you!**

 **I don't have the know-how to write a true legal disclaimer, but Bethesda owns the Fallout series and its characters.**

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 ** _September 28th, 2281, 1:31 p.m._**

A single shot broke the silence looming around the southern gate of Westside. Shouldering her rifle, the guard responsible for interrupting the quiet afternoon watched as the coyote that had gotten a little too bold bounded off into the desert, the dust from its escape rising into the air before blowing lazily away. The guard shielded her eyes as she looked up to the sky, gauging the time of day from the Sun's position. Sighing dejectedly, she returned her gaze to the wasteland and did her best to look for something interesting in the barren landscape.

Within the city walls, a group of children chased happily after a hulking figure. Shrieking with delight, the miniature hunters pursued their quarry before two of them managed to clasp onto its legs and brought the muscular behemoth to the ground. The remaining children seized their chance and clambered onto the super mutant, covering him with a sea of small bodies. The dark green giant growled in mock outrage and began lifting children off of his body one at a time before placing them gently on the ground beside him. His pace was too slow, however, and once they were released, the giggling children immediately climbed back onto their captured prey.

A nearby woman took pity on the besieged super mutant and commanded the group of pint-size hunters to return to their chores. Grumbling and muttering, the children did as they were told and began to skulk back to their homes. Suddenly, the super mutant leapt to his feet with a resounding thump. Snarling in mock outrage, he began to chase after those who had so recently accosted him, causing them to shriek in glee as they fled from their freed adversary.

Rolling her eyes at the spectacle, the woman returned to her work tending a small farm. Kneeling to pull a weed from the ground, she was startled to find the earth below her hand rumbling slightly. She looked around and saw that the super mutant was too far away for him to be the cause of the geographical oddity, but the rest of the city block was peaceful, even strangely empty for this time of the day. The street – which was usually filled with young men and women trading, flirting, and gossiping – contained only farmers and the occasional water Brahmin. Turning back, she stared at the ground quizzically for a moment before her mind worked out what was causing the disturbance.

"Ahh, so that's where everybody's gone," she said, rising to her feet and looking around while brushing the dirt from her hands. "There's a fight."

Deep below her the Thorn was packed to the brim. Barrels filled with fire were spread evenly on the walkways and on high platforms in the arena below, causing the grey concrete to glow with a rusted sheen. The dull red light matched the corroded metal gates forced into the concrete walls of the arena, further solidifying the image of a hellish battleground. The walkways were covered with ranks of men and women and each and every one of them was yelling themselves hoarse.

A red-haired woman stood separate from the bustling crowd, those nearby hesitant to be too boisterous with their cries less they disturb the silent leader of the Thorn. Red Lucy wore her customary tan duster with her shotgun strapped tightly to her back. Surveying the crowd, she crossed her arms lazily and leaned back, most of her weight resting on one foot. Though her stance was relaxed and seemingly uninterested, her eyes shone with anticipation and a savage hunger. It was not often that a human agreed to fight alone in the Thorn, and even more rare was the opponent this hunter had chosen.

The hunter in question stood in his waiting area. Still and seemingly at peace in the chaotic environment, his shaved head was bowed in contemplation and his arms hung loosely at his sides. Each hand held a guard-less combat knife perfectly polished that reflected the spitting flames of the arena as clearly as a mirror. Standing less than six feet with a lithe frame, his chest was bare, revealing skin crisscrossed with scars and burns. The only protection he wore was a pair of tight fitting pants, combat boots, a heavy rebreather, a pair of goggles, and a battered Pip-Boy attached to his left arm. Known to the Mojave Wasteland as the Courier, he was a traveler and had journeyed to Westside in order to earn the favor of the people who lived there. The Thorn, and the creatures it contained, had turned out to be the best way for him to accomplish that goal.

The opponent he had chosen stalked back and forth at the opposite side of the arena. Its nine-foot tall frame was crouched forward and a long tail served as a counterbalance for its predatory stance. Covered in a thick tan hide with spikes rising from its back and a pair of horns adorning its head, it was for all intents and purposes a living dragon. Armed with razor sharp claws, the creature was known in the wasteland as a deathclaw.

This was not the first time this deathclaw had fought a human in the arena, and it knew well the taste of human flesh seasoned with fear. Scrutinizing the Courier, the creature flared its nostrils, trying to distinguish its prey's scent from the rest of the bodies in the room. The deathclaw found this impossible and snorted, returning to pacing eagerly. It hoped to begin and finish the fight quickly — it was hungry after all.

The Courier seemed to sense the creature's impatience and raised his head while taking both of his knives into one hand. Holding the blades behind his back, he raised his empty fist to his chest and saluted Red Lucy and the crowd. The crowd's volume doubled in response as they cheered and jeered at the Courier, their excitement reaching a fever pitch. Red Lucy smiled slightly but made no other motion to acknowledge the Courier's salute. Reaching his free hand behind his head, the Courier flicked a small switch located on the back of his rebreather. The Pip-Boy on his wrist began to click slowly, indicating that something nearby was releasing a steady stream of radiation. He nodded once to Lucy and dropped into a relaxed stance, readying a knife in each hand.

Recognizing the fight was about to begin, the deathclaw slammed a claw angrily against the gate, causing the heavy steel to bend outward. Lucy wasted no more time, signaling to her subordinates to open the gates and begin the fight. The crowd fell into a deafening silence and waited.

Time seemed to slow as the gates opened and the two opponents lunged forward. The Courier, having a smaller frame, made it out of his gate first and sprinted towards the deathclaw. Seeing its prey approaching and unwilling to wait for the gate to open on its own, the deathclaw forced the heavy metal to the side, releasing a cascade of sparks. The monster brought its claws to bear as it charged forward, aiming a heavy swing at its opponent's head.

The strike was impossible to deflect or defend against. The Courier didn't have the strength to parry the blow or the fortitude to survive the heavy swing, so he simply ran past it. Moving faster than any human the deathclaw had ever encountered, the Courier slipped through the creature's vicious claws. Before the deathclaw could recover its momentum and redirect its strike, the Courier embedded his right-hand knife into the beast's neck. Using the embedded blade as leverage and taking advantage of his adversary's confusion, the Courier jumped up and reached behind the deathclaw's muscled neck with his right arm. Snapping his weapon down, he speared the blade deep into the back of the deathclaw's skull. Releasing the knife, he ripped his other blade from his opponent's neck.

Free of the deathclaw, the Courier dove away from the reeling creature before sprinting back in the direction he had come. His strike would eventually prove fatal, but the deathclaw didn't realize that. Driven insane by pain and anger, it chased after the fleeing Courier. Given devastating speed by its coming death, the deathclaw gained quickly on its opponent. Knowing he was running out of room, the Courier leapt once onto one of the raised platforms and again onto the barrel it held. Kicking off the metal cylinder, he scattered its blistering contents into the face of the approaching creature and ran to the wall of the arena. The deathclaw – blinded by the flaming coals – lost sight of its opponent. Undaunted, the beast continued to swing its claws madly as it charged forward.

The Courier jumped onto a concrete ledge and then rebounded off it – seizing the underside of one of the metal walkways with one hand. Now facing his adversary, he threw his remaining knife in a lazy arc towards a pillar standing near the middle of the room and grabbed the walkway with both hands. The deathclaw continued to attack wildly below him, its razor sharp claws slicing dangerously close to the Courier's legs as he swung them out of the monster's reach.

Finally, the knife struck the concrete pillar with a sharp retort. The deathclaw snapped its head towards the sound, leaning forward instinctively as it prepared to charge. Swinging forward, the Courier released his grasp and dropped onto the distracted deathclaw. Landing directly on the pommel of the protruding knife, the man's weight combined with the momentum of his fall caused the blade to embedded itself completely into his opponent's skull. The effect of the blow was instantaneous as the deathclaw became completely limp. Falling forward off the collapsing creature, the Courier rolled towards the knife he had thrown earlier, retrieving it and standing to face his adversary.

The creature settled heavily to the ground and lay still, the rising dust of its fall and the flaring embers of the overturned barrel the only sign of movement in the arena.

All at once the crowd exploded with sound in celebration of the Courier's triumph. Men and woman shouted and cheered for the victor of the brutal fight. Raising their arms and pounding their chests, they saluted him as he had so recently saluted them.

Looking up to the deafening crowd, the Courier turned slowly, seeming to absorb the raw bellow of humanity. He reached behind his head to flick off the radiation generator before moving towards the defeated deathclaw. Kneeling down, he viciously yanked the embedded blade from the deathclaw's skull, covering himself with gore in the process.

The Courier stood with one foot on the deathclaw's corpse and raised the blood-soaked blade into the air, roaring in triumph. The crowd roared back, the voices of hundreds combining to form a solid wall of sound. Finding Red Lucy in the crowd, the Courier tossed her his knife. Watching as she easily caught the spinning weapon, he bowed and once again raised his fist to his heart. Red Lucy smirked slightly and returned the motion, the blood from the combat knife seeping into her gloved hand.

Turning away from the crowd and his defeated adversary, the Courier made his way out of the arena. Eyes dark and determined, he seemed not to notice the applauding handlers as he entered his staging area and made his way to retrieve his equipment.

In his mind, he had not accomplished a great victory. He had defeated the strongest creature that nature had to offer, yes, but in the wasteland, the most dangerous threats came from other human beings.

Soon the battle for the future of the Mojave would begin, and he needed all the support he could get to ensure that the future would be as he intended it. The last four years of his life had set him down this path. Four years of blood, sweat, and sacrifice were either about to be vindicated, or condemned as a waste.

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 **Author's Note: There were no large scale, pre-war conflicts at the Hoover Dam. The Chinese Stealth Armor we find at the Hoover Dam likely originates from the Chinese Espionage efforts in 2053, which resulted in the release of the New Plague. This is why it is outperformed by the same suit we find in Fallout 3, because that newer armor originates from the Anchorage conflict, thirteen years after the New Plague outbreak.**

 **The First Battle of Hoover Dam is the colloquial name for the first offensive mounted by Caesar's forces against the NCR forces located at the Hoover Dam.**

 **The catalyst for the Great War (the two hour nuclear bombardment) was likely the t-51b power armor and its deployment to the front lines in China, combined with Anchorage being completely taken back by the United States' forces, not a dam in the center of the US.**


	2. Chapter 1 - Hoover Dam I

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 ** _October 23rd, 2281, 7:21 a.m._**

"Shit, fuck, bitch!"

Private Hicks desperately pulled himself across the concrete floor of the Hoover Dam power plant, his left leg dragging uselessly behind him. His goal was the door – he didn't even remember where it led; he just knew he needed to get to the other side of it. _Maybe I can seal it from the other side! It shouldn't be that hard to do, right?_ he thought humorlessly.

He still heard the heavy footsteps of the huge Centurion over the reverberations of the dam and the sound of combat. _That guy must weigh a ton!_ Hicks speculated, as he continued to verbally spout profanities. The Private had been hit by a stray ricochet when the Legion commander first charged the NCR fortifications, and had been crawling to the doorway ever since. Behind him, he heard the Centurion make quick work of the remaining NCR troopers.

The sounds of conflict ended with a brutal impact of metal on metal followed by muted gasps. Glancing back, he saw that the Centurion had caved in a Heavy Trooper's chestplate. The tempered armor, now concave, was slowly killing the poor bastard stuck inside. The trooper weakly raised his rifle for one last shot at the hulking figure, but the Centurion kicked the weapon aside, causing it to slide towards Hicks' crawling form. As it slid, Hicks finally got a good look at the monster that had decimated his squad.

The man was closer to seven feet than six, and his muscular frame seemed more similar to a super mutant's than a human's. His right arm was clad in the remnants of power armor clasped together with tempered plates of metal. Bits and pieces of various tribal and Legion armors adorned the rest of his body and his feet were shod in heavy boots. His chest was scarred with a vicious cut that had healed poorly – the flesh still flaring angrily. A thick beard covered the Centurion's face and his dirty blonde hair ran long and wild, unrestrained by the helmet customary of those of his rank. His eyes were blue and feral, and Hicks saw that they were now looking directly at him. The Centurion's lips parted in a sadistic smile and he began to slowly stalk the prone Private.

"Fuck, shit, cun-" Hicks continued, turning back and pulling himself across the floor until a boot pressed against the flat of his back, pushing the air out of his lungs in a rush which caused his next planned profanity to end prematurely.

"Going somewhere, my little _profligate_?" the Centurion cooed mockingly, his voice rumbling and soothing. "Your hurry seems misplaced I think, as your welcoming party for Cesar has barely even started. He thanks you for your willingness to test his might, but unfortunately, you have been found lacking. Now… calm heart and hold self still." Hicks felt the boot lift off his back and reached weakly for the door.

With a hiss, the hatchway opened and an armored figure stepped through it. Hicks' gaze moved up the power armor clad behemoth that now stood before him. This was not the NCR's imitation of power armor, or even the advanced type used by the Brotherhood of Steel. This power armor was dark and cackled with green lightning from pylons across its frame. Two power gauntlets were connected seamlessly to the arm guards of the armor. One was a pneumatic fist made of a peculiarly colored metal and the other resembled the ballistic fists used by Caesar's Praetorians. The shoulder guards of the armor connected together, creating a crest that rose behind the wearer's head and served to highlight the seemingly out-of-place headpiece, which appeared to be a standard combat helmet that had been adorned with feathers and the lower jaw of a great carnivore.

The figure stood confident, despite the fact that it alone faced seven legion veterans, including the hulking Centurion. Letting its pneumatic fist rest lightly on its hip, it was somehow able to portray an aura of smugness and haughtiness through the heavy armor. "Leave him be, Ursus," a muffled female voice stated. "I'm a big proponent for romance, so I really think you should wine and dine him a bit before you give him the shaft… or the sledge…"

"Veronica, my lovely _futatrix_ , wherever did you find such ghastly armor?" Ursus said, seemingly distracted as he stepped away from Private Hicks and began to pace in a half circle around the doorway. The Legionaries behind him shifted and chuckled with his choice of words, but remained in position and alert. "Last I heard you stepped away from your Brotherhood and their technology, yet here you stand in their regalia of the old world."

"Oh… it's not theirs," Veronica replied offhandedly as she lifted her ballistic fist and seemed to inspect her nails, buried as they were under protective hide and metal. "It's Gannon's."

Ursus paused momentarily at this before continuing to pace, his eyes darkening. He began to spin his sledge in a lazy circle as he walked, causing his Legionaries to stiffen to attention. "Ahh… Enclave," he continued. "So, the good doctor survived our last encounter? He has more fortitude than I gave credit for."

"Yeah, next time you might want to swing at both 'doctors." Veronica said, mimicking the quotations for doctors with her ballistic fist. "The Courier… Sorry… Denn was able to fix him up right as rain after he chased you off — nice scar by the way. Guess you don't get to be 'one swing McGee' anymore. You even managed to secure the Remnant's allegiance with your little betrayal, so I guess we owe you one," Veronica quipped, giving Ursus a thumbs up.

Ursus smiled, rubbing his neck with his free hand. "Denn and I parted in less than favorable circumstances I admit." His pacing slowed and he seemed to lose himself for a moment before turning his attention back to Veronica. "Speaking of unfavorable partings, what would your Brotherhood think if they saw you in such way? Wearing armor of their greatest rivals and enemies would likely fill them with righteous indignation, yes? Why, they might even take it upon themselves to slaughter an innocent outpost of Followers – they do seem to enjoy such outings." Ursus's smile widened as Veronica stiffened. "Yes, we heard what self-exile has done to those you wish to help." Ursus gestured to Hicks with his sledge as he passed, sending it in one last spin before resting it on his shoulder and stopping to stand over the prone soldier. "I wonder how involvement will help this man?"

Veronica glanced at the NCR soldier. The Private had started to completely fall into shock and appeared to have lost all sense of the world around him. Soon he would bleed out. Behind her helmet Veronica winced; she didn't see how she could get him out of this. Her main goal was to keep Ursus busy while Denn turned on the dam's turbine to flush the Legion troops through the grinder. She couldn't outrun Ursus and his Legionaries while carrying the fallen soldier, so the plan of running away (or as she had said to Denn, "a decisive tactical retreat") was out. She sighed, seeing only one option. "Damn my rampant selflessness and unquestionable heroism," she muttered softly while dropping into a relaxed stance as she sent power from her suit to her Saturanite power fist.

Ursus grinned at the now crouched figure. "Ah, this fight has been long in coming," he said quietly, gripping his sledge tightly. The Centurion glanced down at Private Hicks. "What say we remove all distractions, yes?"

Veronica's eyes widened as Ursus half-turned, gripping his sledge with both hands and lining up a strike at the private's crumpled form. The servos in her armor leaped into movement as time seemed to slow and she lunged desperately to intercept the crushing blow. In an instant, she closed the distance between them and managed to halt the vicious swing, both her hands gripping the massive weapon.

"Impressive my dear _profligate_ ," Ursus growled softly, sadistic grin still in place as he bore down on his weapon, forcing Veronica's arms to bend. "I have feeling this will not be over quickly."

"I'm counting on it," Veronica muttered, her armor grinding against the impossible strength of the man before her. Unexpectedly, she pulled the sledge towards her and drove her helmeted forehead into the bridge of her taller opponent's nose. His grin turned into a grimace and he yanked back, pulling his weapon from her grasp and putting space between them. Veronica remained in place, protecting the fallen form of the Private. "That's three now you've failed to kill, by my count, Ursus. Better be careful; I hear you have a reputation to maintain."

"Finally using your head instead of your heart to fight your battles? Surprising," Ursus replied through his grimace, wiping away the blood that dripped from his nose. "Very well. Now for surprise of my own." Ursus pulled a mircrofusion cell from his belt and pressed it into a slot in the shaft of his super sledge. A high-pitched whine joined the chorus of the dam's turbines and arcs of blue energy began to lance from his weapon's head. "You are not the only one to be rewarded for loyalty," He stated, slamming his sledge into the concrete, causing it to release a burst of energy and an explosion of sparks. His voice rose in anger as he yelled, "Come now _profligate_! Find your peace in death!" Spinning his sledge through the air, he charged the former Brotherhood Scribe.

"Me and my big mouth…" Veronica deadpanned as she sidestepped away from the viciously humming weapon. Ursus followed her movements and swung his sledge horizontally, holding the shaft with one hand and turning with the swing to increase the range of his weapon as it whistled through the air. Veronica hopped back while simultaneously lowering her center of gravity and leaned her torso away from the weapon, using Ursus' height to her advantage to dip under the sledge as it passed an inch from her helmet. She straightened and dashed in after his attack, shifting her weight to line up a strike at what should have been an off-balance opponent.

However, Ursus was no novice to battle. His swing was not intended to connect and had very little strength behind it. As he continued to turn, he moved his free hand to the bottom of the shaft and allowed his other hand to slide up, sending his sledge in a quick rotation over his head as he did so. Planting his feet as he completed his spin, Ursus swung his sledge in an impossibly fast upswing, catching Veronica's arm just before her fist connected with his torso. The swing had relatively little physical strength behind it, but as it struck her armor, a fury of sparks erupted and the servos in that arm began to grind and fail.

Veronica leaped back, her arm now frozen mid strike as the power armor clamped around it. She could no longer bend her elbow, but her shoulder joint remained operable, allowing her to retain most of her dexterity. She danced away from her opponent. Her armor had protected her arm from being shattered, but her left fist was now offensively useless.

The readout projected on her helmet's visor indicated that it could be possible for her to return power to her frozen appendage, but only after a system reboot. The rest of her power armor remained unaffected and Ursus had not followed her, instead standing in the same spot, watching her closely. He seemed curious, but more importantly, he now stood between her and the door she had emerged from. Grasping at straws, Veronica decided to try her luck at deception. "Nice swing, 'sparky.' It's a shame it didn't do much," Veronica bluffed, hoping to keep him wary of her now-frozen limb.

Ursus ejected the drained microfusion cell from his sledge and calmly inserted another, watching Veronica's movements as he did so. "Old world tech so difficult to maintain," he stated humorlessly as his sledge began to hum with energy again. "Introduce unexpected factor and what was advantage becomes liability. All armor in world is useless when power will not flow." He brought his sledge in front of his torso as he spoke and began to stalk forward. "Is shame your helmet is not old world tech. If I disabled that maybe it would stop incessant chatter."

"Well technically it's half old tech, but come on, I know how you love to talk! Hell, I'm probably the first real conversation you've had in months!" Veronica replied sardonically, circling around and doing her best to keep space between them. Space was limited however, and it was a commodity she was quickly running out of.

At that moment the hum of the dam increased twofold, and screams echoed from deeper within the structure. The Legion under Ursus' command snapped their rifles towards the screams and stood ill at ease. Gunfire continued to echo through the halls, but with decreasing frequency. Ursus stopped stalking his prey and gestured to one of the Legionaries. The soldier pulled out what appeared to be a makeshift radio and began to speak into it earnestly. He waited for a response, but the radio released only static. The Legionary looked towards Ursus and shook his head, returning the radio to its resting place and picking up his rifle.

Ursus sighed, "Ah, deception. Denn has engaged the turbine?" He asked Veronica, standing again at ease with his sledge resting on his shoulder.

"It was the plan all along!" Veronica admitted, relaxing and sassily resting her hand on her hip. The stance was slightly awkward this time, however, as her other arm was frozen stiff. "Little old me was just supposed to keep you chattin' long enough for the bossman to slip down and turn on the blender. Guess your little sneak attack is over."

Frowning at her, Ursus gestured towards Private Hicks' fallen body and the Legionary with the radio quickly fired a short salvo into him. As the bullets thudded into the prone body, Veronica dropped her cocky stance and froze – her knee-jerk reaction to jump to fallen soldier's aid. It was too late. She choked back a scream and slumped forward. The world blacked out until all that remained was herself and the late NCR Private, his blood pooling on the smooth concrete and dripping through a metal grate.

Suddenly, she was back in the Follower's outpost. Bodies of doctors – good people – lay strewn about, and the ashes of vaporized corpses covered the floor. Heavy boot-prints were imprinted in the fine ash and loose bullet casings littered the ground. Golden hair caked with blood fell weightlessly through the air.

Her family had done this – the people she had grown up with, fought with, laughed with and cried with. They had murdered these people, her friends, for what they might have known. Veronica hadn't told the Followers anything, but they had been murdered because of her all the same. All she wanted to do was help; all she had ever wanted to do was help, but she never could. She couldn't help the Followers any more than she had helped the helpless NCR soldier. Her mind slipped back into the present, the vision having lasted only a few short seconds.

" – Eastern door, I take West. We will hold until Lanius pushes them from the dam." Ursus was in the middle of giving orders to his Legionaries. Veronica's eyes narrowed into slits as her grief and despair turned to rage. Unable to control her cascading anger, she charged, releasing a scream drawn from the farthest reaches of her subconscious.

Ursus was not unprepared for her attack, but he was unprepared for her ferocity. Seemingly unrestricted by the heavy armor, she followed his every movement as he desperately backpedaled away from her bombardment. Raining blows on his huge frame, her armor sparked angrily and her generator hummed fiercely. It was impossible for Ursus to avoid all of her attacks, and every impact left his skin burned from contact with her glowing weapon.

The Centurion swung his sledge expertly, but Veronica kept herself too close for him to put any power in his strikes. She used her frozen arm as a makeshift shield, blocking blows that would have disabled other sections of her armor. Screaming with rage, she continued to bash away at her target with abandon, battering the hulking Centurion with barbaric fury. Her anger was playing out, however, and her opponent could withstand all the punishment she could send his way.

Ursus was not an opponent to face while lost to emotion. He bided his time through Veronica's assault, waiting for his opportune moment to retaliate. The moment came when Veronica again used her disabled arm to block one of his strikes but did not immediately pull away to ready another swing. Taking his hand from the shaft of the weapon, he pushed his sledge into the crook of her arm, turning and pulling his armored opponent off balance using his increased leverage. Keeping Veronica from regaining her footing with his continuous momentum, Ursus spun her in circles until he reached the wall, slamming her viciously against it.

Keeping her pressed against the wall, though she struggled to push him off, Ursus quickly ejected his empty microfusion cell from his weapon and slipped in another. Activating the weapon, he pushed the head of the sledge against Veronica's chestplate, releasing a ferocious discharge of blue energy and causing her generator to grind to a halt. Veronica was now trapped within her armor. Moving without power was difficult on its own, but under the weight of the gargantuan Ursus, it was impossible.

Ursus panted heavily as he freed his sledge from Veronica's frozen arm. He pushed her shoulder up against the wall, forcing her back flush with the concrete and completely trapping her Saturnite fist beneath her. "Know I bear you no personal animosity," Ursus began after his breathing had returned to normal. "The time with you, Denn, and the others taught me much of the nature of the west. You fought well and deserve a warrior's death. Any final words?"

Veronica's voice was muffled and rang out metallically from her helmet, "Eat a dick you mostly-hairless ape!" She continued to struggle against his weight, but had no leverage with which to free herself.

Ursus sighed and raised his sledge, slamming it into the chestplate of Veronica's armor. The steel held, but the blow drove the air from her lungs and left her disoriented. "Very well… find peace in whatever afterlife you may," Ursus said quietly. Stepping off Veronica's shoulder, he readied a vicious blow aimed at the former Scribe's head.

Veronica looked past Ursus' feet to the corpse of Hicks, his eyes starring emptily back at her. The legion soldiers were working behind the body to move the defensive fortifications of the NCR back into place.

As Veronica looked into the eyes of the corpse, a glint of movement caught her eye. A tin can was falling seemingly out of nowhere towards the cluster of Legion troops. As her attention was drawn to the oddity, it exploded, transforming the thin metal into a devastating blast of concussive force, followed by a flood of blue plasma. The Legion troops covered with the boiling liquid screamed as the concoction burned through their armor and skin, leaving those who survived the initial blast to die in blistering agony.

An armored form dropped from the ceiling and tossed another small container towards Ursus and Veronica, causing the Centurion to dive away from the projectile as it flew towards him. Veronica's eyes widened in terror as a weapon identical to the one that had devastated the Legion soldiers sailed towards her face, seeming to grow larger as it approached her.

The explosive hit her faceplate with a slight ping and glanced harmlessly to the floor, rolling in a small circle before coming to a stop. A small laugh came from the source of the can and the man who had caused the devastation and confusion began to walk towards the two prone combatants.

The figure wore riot armor covered with a brown duster similar to the uniform worn by the NCR Rangers. Unlike the armor popular with the Rangers, however, this armor featured two green shoulder guards and heavier gauntlets. His forearm was adorned with a battered Pip-Boy 3000 that gave off a dull glow, creating slight shadows across his frame. A rebreather covered his mouth and nose and a reinforced combat helmet concealed the rest of his face. He had no firearms to speak of, but a series of bandoleers across his chest carried numerous explosives and what appeared to be small throwing weapons. A curved machete was holstered in his belt, and another two knives were held in sheaths integrated into his boots, which seemed excessively bulky and gave off a slight metallic sound as he walked.

"Ursus you self-righteous son-of-a-bitch!" The approaching figure spoke evenly despite the rebreather he wore. "I know Caesar is charismatic to a fault, but how did he convince you to lead this suicide mission? I mean; you clambered through a turbine into a dam swarming with NCR! Certainly your skills would have been better put to use in the battle above?"

Ursus rose cautiously, keeping his eyes on the approaching figure. "It is penalty for my failure in infiltrating your NCR. It was certainly not my choice, nor his. No soldier is held in favor or above reproach. Though truthfully, we did not expect you to be present for the assault. Were you not supposed to be investigating a mysterious message?"

The figure stopped a respectful distance from the rising giant, bringing his arms behind him and standing at attention as he continued to converse with the battered Centurion. "As to my supposed absence, you really should make sure your sources are un-compromised before basing an entire assault on their intel – my team returned days ago, and as much as I wish it were 'my' NCR, our goals unfortunately do not align. Would that your Caesar was more reasonable, I might have been aiding you in this assault instead of them."

Veronica frowned underneath her faceplate. Denn had never spoken of his relationship with the NCR in such a way before. By all appearances, he was happy to work with them in their defense against Caesar's Legion, but his last statement seemed sincere. Veronica shuddered slightly at the thought of the Courier aiding the vicious invaders from the east.

"You all right, Veronica?" Denn asked, seeming to sense her uncomfortable train of thought.

"Peachy. Just can't seem to move," Veronica grunted metallically. "Ursus' got a new play-toy that does wonders with Old World tech."

"Noted. Now Ursus," Denn continued, "since I have relived you of your Legionaries, would you be so kind as to surrender?"

Ursus's gaze moved to the floor as his eyes hardened. "You know that is impossible my friend," he said quietly through gritted teeth. "I live as Legion and will die the same. As appreciative as I am for the offer, I will fight to my last before being put in NCR chains."

"You wouldn't go to the NCR," Denn replied evenly. "You wouldn't even be a prisoner. I need people like you, Ursus. This world needs the strength you have, and I would sooner destroy a work of art than kill you. Caesar throws away your strength because of tradition, ignoring practicality and reason. That is why he will fall, sooner rather than later, and when he does, his Legion will follow. I will make sure it does."

Veronica stared at Denn with her mouth agape. Ursus had viciously attacked not only her, but also Denn himself, and here the Courier was asking for the brutal Centurion to join them. Molten rage billowed from deep within her and she struggled desperately to rise to her knees. "Are you insane, you chem-addled idiot!?" she said loudly. "You know you can't trust this man! He betrayed you and tried to kill Gannon! He murders your allies in cold blood! This man," Veronica struggled to point her plated finger towards Ursus, "spent months learning about us and our personal lives to use that knowledge against us, but here you are asking him to join us like none of–"

Denn held up his hand and turned towards her, trying to calm her outrage. Veronica continued to rise but held her anger in check, glaring towards Ursus. Turning back to the Centurion, Denn sighed, "She's right. I have every reason to distrust you… and I do, but I also know the man who faced deathclaws with nothing but an axe in order to save my life. I know the man who told me of his upbringing within the Legion, trusting me to keep that knowledge to myself. I know the man who saved a dying friend of mine whom he had every reason to hate. This is the man I give the option to leave the Legion and help me create a new world. My friend, I need you."

Ursus stared at Denn, his brow furrowed. The moments passed slowly as the turbines of the dam continued to hum. "You speak truth," he said finally. "Caesar's Legion will die with him, but it is not something I can willingly abandon. I have fought for him since I can remember. He is as inseparable from my own as my arm or my heart. My life is for the Legion, and for the Legion I will die. You have my thanks, my friend. I know you do not make this offer lightly, and I know what pain my actions have caused." He looked towards Veronica, "I spoke truth when I said I hold no personal animosity. You are a fine warrior, and should be welcome into the ranks of the Legion, but it is not so. I hope you will live a long, fulfilling life my friend." He lowered his head in a small bow and turned back towards Denn. "My answer is no, but I wish you luck in creating your new world. I am sorry it has no place for me."

Denn stood silently, unmoving as the seconds passed. "As you will," he said, sadness in his voice. He moved his hands from behind him and reached into his duster with one while releasing a clasp on his rebreather with the other, letting it fall loosely to one side. Pulling a flask out of his coat, he the took a deep swallow of its contents before tossing the container to Ursus. "My own mix, a variant of the Battle Brew we engineered together."

Ursus took a hearty swig, grinning as the liquid burned its way down his throat. "Has more bite than I remember, what is different?"

"I added a concoction from the canyons of Zion," Denn answered, shaking his head and reattaching his rebreather as the potent liquid began to take effect. "Slight hallucinogen – made the natives go abstractly crazy! Deadens the pain nicely though." Denn coughed into his rebreather, wheezing slightly.

"Maybe should water it down some," Ursus quipped. "Appears to be too hard for your sensibilities." Denn waved him off and the Centurion smiled again, tossing the flask back to the Courier.

Ursus straightened his back, stretching and shaking his muscles out. Once more he ejected the spent microfusion cell from his sledge and inserted another. "I hate long goodbyes." He said quietly.

Denn put his flask back into his coat and unsheathed his curved machete, spinning it deftly before raising it in a salute. "Goodbye, my friend." Denn said grimly, slicing the blade down before stalking forward lightly.


	3. Chapter 2 - Hoover Dam II

.

 ** _November 17th, 2280, 1:21 p.m._**

"– and then I play my joker on my ace of spades, which takes your two of spades out of your caravan, making it now twenty-four! Unless you have another two or thee, I win!"

The NCR trooper stared at the cards in his hand and then up at the bubbly Private that had talked him into playing a card game that had been described as "simple as shitin'."

"This game is stupid," the older trooper declared as he threw his cards on the table, leaning back in his seat and glaring at the Private incredulously. "I ain't seen it in none of the casinos on the strip, and it sure as hell ain't 'simple as shitin'."

The Private's face fell. "Now don't be like that," he whined. "Nobody likes a sore loser! I know you'll get the hang of it if you give it another shot – you almost had me there for a moment."

"Stick with shootin' and eatin'. You make a terrible con-man," the trooper replied.

"Talked you out of ten caps – can't be that terrible!" the Private quipped with a smile. Taking the caps from the table, he shined them on his shirt before putting them into his pocket.

"Yeah yeah …" the trooper conceded, waving his hand dismissively towards the Private. "Don't know why you're so into that silly game – ain't gonna' make you any money on the strip."

"It's really popular everywhere else, though!" the Private said, expressively gesturing with one hand while his other finished collecting his winnings. "I was surprised you'd never heard of it! Heck, they probably play it across the river in the Legion! If I got caught, I bet I could challenge them to a game of this and win my way to freedom!"

The trooper grinned and shook his head before replying. "Son, if you get caught, you're gonna' find yourself at the top of a post with rebar pushed through your arms and legs 'fore you can say 'shit'. They don't play no games in Caesar's Legion."

"Well that's not entirely true," a metallic voice stated. The soldiers turned and were met with a very odd sight. A man, a small floating robot and a grey super mutant wearing a pair of overalls, gardening gloves and a straw bonnet were standing in the doorway of the break-room in which they were relaxing. The man continued, speaking through a heavy rebreather, "They have gambling just like we do. Dice rolling, dog fights, sometimes they just toss coins, or ' _capita aut chasma,'_ as they call it. Their rules are usually less defined, and with the homemade nature of their gambling implements, cheating is fairly commonplace – even expected. Then again, gambling while on duty gets your pinkies cut off, so I guess it's not really a very friendly environment for the practice."

The soldiers stared with mouths agape at the three out-of-place figures. When it was clear that no comment was arising from the astonished troopers, the man coughed and asked simply, "Do you know where I could find Quartermaster Bardon?"

"Uhh… He's another floor down at the base of the stairs – first door on your right," the older trooper answered, pointing his thumb in the Quartermaster's direction.

"Thank you very much!" the man replied, making his way out of the room. The floating robot whirred at them happily as it followed suit.

"Goodbye, dearies!" the super mutant said in a deep gravely voice. The soldiers jumped at the statement and stared wide-eyed as the hulking figure left the room, waving to them the whole time. "What nice young men," the super mutant continued as it moved down the hall.

"The hell was that?" the older trooper asked loudly, turning his gaze from the doorway to the Private. The Private was still staring after the strange group, mouth hanging open loosely. "Hey!" the trooper snapped, bringing the Private out of his stupor. "The hell's wrong with you?"

"That was the Courier! _The_ Courier," the private stated excitedly. "Holy shit, the Courier is working with the NCR!"

"Courier? You mean those messenger boys that work out of the Hub?" the trooper asked incredulously.

The Private was now overflowing with excitement, and as he spoke, his voice occasionally cracked loudly. "Well, I guess he was just _a_ courier for awhile, but this guy was _the_ Courier! This guy has been all across the entire Mojave and then some! They say he was shot in the head and was back on his feet within hours! One time, I heard he fought an entire family of deathclaws just as a favor. On the radio, it's said he befriended a group of ghouls and shot them into space in rockets! That guy is a living legend! Now he's working for the NCR!? My mom is never going to believe this!"

The trooper shook his head and grinned at the bubbly Private. "You'd better check your radio with maintenance, boy. I think either its battery is leakin' or the radio-waves must've addled up your brain some."

"I ain't no addled," the Private proclaimed, glaring at the smiling trooper. "Even if half of the stories about this guy are true, he could turn the tide of this war against the Legion."

"Speaking of which," the trooper said while leaning forward, "how'd he know so much 'bout those assholes from the East? 'Even spoke some of that lay-ton that they so proud of. Is he some kind of Legion sympathizer?"

"The Courier? Heck no," the Private replied adamantly. "He's all about helping people and would never enslave nobody, unlike those Legion assholes."

"Hicks, you lazy sack of Brahmin shit!" Private Hicks jumped out of his chair and stood at attention. An officer was standing at the doorway, seething in fury as she pointed at the shaking private. "I told you if you missed duty again I'd take your alcohol ration and feed it to the lakelurks! This isn't a pleasure club like Gomorrah, and I am not your pimp! Now straighten up your uniform and get the fuck to work!" The officer stormed off, her heavy boots accentuating the finality of her statement.

"Well, shoot…" Private Hicks said, lowering his shoulders and sighing dejectedly. "I was finally taking a liking to alcohol. Now if she has her way, I won't get a drink 'till the next president is elected."

The older trooper rocked with a belly laugh as he stood up, patting Hicks on the shoulder. "There, there," he said, trying to comfort the moping Private. "I'm sure if you ask real nice like, the lakelurks would be happy to share their stuff. Now, you'd best be making tracks – don't worry, I'll clean up your cards for ya'."

The Private ginned sheepishly at the trooper, "I appreciate it. I'll teach you more about Caravan later! Heck, I'll even play for fun 'til you get the hang of it!"

"Tell you what," the trooper said; pushing Hicks towards the door, "I'll play Caravan again when your friend ' _The Courier'_ starts fighting the NCR's battles for them. If he's really working for us, I'll prolly' be better at it than you by the time this war ends."

"Alright!" Private Hicks replied as he made his way down the hall, saluting awkwardly. "You've got yourself a deal!"

The trooper chuckled as the Private moved down the hallway. Retrieving the pack of cards, he glanced out of the room and seeing nobody approaching, made his way towards the exit of the Dam's maze of hallways. In the Dam's visitor center, he stopped and had a quick conversation with a group of engineers, laughing happily at their response and drawing a round of smiles. Moving outside, he gestured familiarly at a Ranger on duty and began the long walk towards Boulder City.

As he reached a deteriorating bridge, he glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby before making his way underneath it. Sliding down the embankment, he pulled out a radio and turned it on, changing the frequency until he reached his desired channel.

He keyed the radio's microphone on and spoke into it quietly. "Lupa, this is Frumentarius Remus. Over."

The radio hissed static for a moment before it responded. "This is Lupa, what is your message? Over."

Remus glanced around, once more making sure nobody was within earshot before replying. "The Courier is working with the NCR. I repeat. The Courier is working with the NCR, over."

More static hissed from the radio, and it seemed like ages before it responded. "Acknowledged. We are activating asset Ursus. You are to return to your post and keep tabs on the Courier's acceptance within the NCR. Do you copy? Over."

Remus stared at the radio, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Ursus is working with the Courier?"

He was answered with the silence of static before the radio one again asked, "Do you copy? Over."

"I copy. Ave, true to Caesar."

"Ave, true to Caesar."

.

* * *

.

 ** _October 23rd, 2281, 7:35 a.m._**

Another wave of Legionaries rushed forward from the eastern intake tower of the Hoover Dam. There they met a withering barrage of gunfire and were quickly forced behind cover. The NCR Rangers had done their best to cripple the first Legionaires to rush across the narrow bridge, knowing that the Legion sent their least experienced troops to the front line first. What was once a clear walkway to the dam proper was now an almost impassable path, covered with groaning Legionaries clutching at useless legs.

Further to the east, the Legion forces steadily advanced on the entrenched NCR troopers. Cut off from reinforcements by the Legion's assault behind them, the NCR forces were being systematically pushed back by the relentless Legionaires. The jaws began to close on the NCR as the Legion pressured them from two sides.

Deeper within the dam, a group of engineers cowered in a small mess hall as sounds of battle echoed through the cramped hallways. The trapped Legionaries fought bitterly to the last man as the NCR methodically moved through the plant, stamping out any resistance to keep from once more being flanked on a third side.

Above the echoing sounds of combat, the hum of the dam's turbines rumbled on, rising in intensity and causing the ground itself to shake. The combatants of both sides took almost no notice of the activity of the dam's turbines, but the increased output had set forth an impressive chain of events. Deep underneath the Legion camp at Fortification Hill, thousands of screens flickered to life as the Securitron army stationed there was activated. Generators whirred angrily as the armored forms shook off the dust of two centuries and made their way to vast gateways. Halting before the heavy steel leading to the outside world, the Securitrons stood motionless again.

A Securitron at the front and center of one of the formations changed the image on its view-screen from a soldier to that of a smiling emoticon stuck in a perpetual state of joy. The Securitron's speakers cracked harshly to life. "Oh boy! This is going to be neat!" the automaton said ecstatically, its jubilation echoing throughout the silent bunker.

.

* * *

.

Veonica struggled to reach the access hatch on her armor that would allow her to restart the generator within. With the servos of her left armguard clamped together tightly, she couldn't easily reach down and expose the lever that would kick-start her armor and begin the process of rebooting. Looking helplessly across the room, she marveled at the ferocity of the two combatants now locked in battle.

Despite the vicious cuts across Ursus' arm and chest it would be a grave mistake to consider him at a disadvantage. Checking his swings to ensure he did not discharge his weapon prematurely, Ursus methodically stalked his more agile opponent. Keeping Denn from gaining any momentum in the fight, Ursus accepted the glancing blows that Denn managed to inflict as he perpetually kept his heavy sledge swinging towards the Courier.

Denn played his part in the confrontation perfectly, always staying one step ahead of Ursus' relentless assault. Every time Ursus left him an opportunity to counterattack he did so, dashing out of range immediately after to avoid the Centurion's brutal response. His strikes were quick, but not powerful, and were meant to whittle down the hulking fighter rather then devastate him with a single strike, yet Denn knew that he had to stay on the defensive. A single blow from Ursus' sledge had a high chance of causing devastating damage that would quickly cause the fight to go in the man's favor.

Their deadly dance continued as they moved across the room. Jumping over the destroyed NCR fortifications, Denn tried to put some distance between Ursus and himself to gain a momentary reprieve. Ursus leaped after him, falling into a roll as he passed over the sandbags and rising expertly with his sledge already in motion. Again forced on his heels, Denn backed away quickly.

Biding his time for the right moment to attack, Denn continued to dash in and out of the Centurion's range. Finally, he saw his chance as Ursus swung his sledge in a brutal downswing. Moving forward, Denn stepped onto the shaft of the weapon while sliding his machete up its length. Ursus attempted to lift the super sledge, but when Denn's vicious blade reached his hands, he instinctively released the weapon.

Kicking his leg back, Denn slid the sledge across the room and dashed away, trying to disengage from his opponent – while Denn had disarmed him, Ursus' physical strength still made him a major threat. As he started to dive, Denn felt Ursus seize his left arm. Growling angrily, Ursus yanked the lithe Courier back towards him and forced the machete from his hands. The Centurion's free hand leaped out and clamped down on Denn's throat, slowly lifting his opponent from the ground.

Desperately, Denn reached into his coat and pulled out a knife, driving it up into Ursus' wrist. The giant roared in agony but refused to relinquish his chokehold. Feeling the Centurion's hand begin to close like a vice, Denn reversed his grip on the knife and pulled it away from his body, the sharpened blade slicing through Ursus' arm as he did so.

The attack caused Ursus to finally release his throat, but before Denn could shift his weight to pull his other arm free, the Centurion returned his hand to Denn's lower body. Seizing Denn's belt and shifting his other hand to the Courier's shoulder, Ursus lifted his opponent above his head. Roaring in rage and agony, he drove Denn to the ground while simultaneously kneeling. The combined force of gravity and Ursus' strength brought the Courier's back crashing down onto the Centurion's exposed knee with a resounding crack.

A quiet ringing filled Veronica's head, drowning out the endless drone of the Dam's generators. Her mind was unable to process what she had just seen. Denn's body lay broken upon Ursus' knee; his arms fully extended and hanging limp while his chest rose and fell weakly. Ursus' head remained above Denn's chest, his eyes closed and his teeth gritted tightly.

.

* * *

.

In the hallways around the entwined combatants, the last of the Legion forces were finally disposed of. An NCR Heavy Trooper swung his Super Sledge through the pitiful defenses of a prone soldier, smashing through the raised machete and caving in the Legionary's chest. Blood exploded out of the young man's mouth and what breath he had left was wasted on a stunted gasp.

As the lone soldier's life was ended, the battle on the Dam above raged as Caesar's Legion finally overwhelmed the cut-off NCR troopers. Legionaries viciously hacked away at their enemies, screaming in rage while their victims simultaneously screamed in agony. Machetes rose and fell, embedding themselves into the men and women of the west. Once more the Hoover Dam was soaked with the blood of the NCR.

.

* * *

.

Ursus' mouth moved without cause as his thoughts failed to reach the point of words. The Centurion's eyes opened suddenly and he stared at the Courier's body, Denn's moving chest the only sign of continued life. "I … am sorry," Ursus choked out finally, his breathing shallow as he held his broken friend and combatant.

"As am I," Denn said clearly and snapped his left hand up into the bridge of Ursus' nose. Rolling off the reeling Centurion's knee, he pulled a grenade from his bandolier with his right hand, deftly removing its pin and safety clip in the same motion. Spinning quickly, he shoved the explosive into Ursus' armguard.

Pulling away from the rising giant, he reversed his momentum and leapt up, rotating once in the air to bring the heel of his left foot into contact with Ursus' chest. A furious blast of sound erupted from his boot as it connected with Ursus, sending a shockwave of force into the hulking Centurion. Losing his footing, Ursus fell to the ground with no control of his momentum. Doing his best to regain his balance, Ursus desperately tried to pull the grenade out of his armor – but it was too late.

Denn's body prevented Veronica from seeing the effect of the blast, but the wet thump of the grenade's explosion reverberated throughout the room, almost drowning out the sound of gore splashing onto metal and concrete. The relative silence of the Dam's turbines stretched on until the Courier moved forward to Ursus' side, finally revealing to Veronica the damage his explosive had done.

Ursus' armguard had contained most of the blast and forced it through the path of least resistance, the man's shoulder and neck. Veronica focused on the destroyed armor, refusing to look back at the man she had once known. Denn, however, refused to look away. The grenade had devastated Ursus' upper body. His dense muscle had kept his chest from being completely destroyed, but the force of the explosion had ripped apart most of his shoulder and torn through the majority of the neighboring flesh.

Reaching down, Denn checked Ursus' body for a pulse. He found none. Lifting the chin of the corpse he noticed several wounds to the side of the head where shrapnel had pierced Ursus' skull. Hoping that death had been instantaneous, Denn released the Centurion's head and lowered his own, gripping Ursus' remaining shoulder tightly with his right hand. Moments passed as the Courier said a short prayer to Mars on his combatant's behalf, knowing the man would have done the same for him. Denn rose and raised his arm to his chest in a final salute before turning away from the corpse. Purposefully, he retrieved his weapon and made his way back to Veronica.

"War…" He muttered darkly. "War never changes."


	4. Chapter 3 - Ursus - Hoover Dam III

**_._**

 ** _January 23rd, 2281, 11:43 p.m._**

At night, one could forget the dangers of the Mojave wasteland. The twinkling lights of New Vegas and the pale moonlight intermingled to form a unique glow that shone brightly across the night sky. On the world below, the wasteland itself seemed still and empty, the whispers of the wind only occasionally overshadowed by the lonesome cry of some animal. Peace and serenity lay over the land as a cloak, concealing the nightly battle of survival for the creatures of the desert.

Hunters and the hunted moved quickly and silently through the ever-present shadows. Smaller prey hid themselves in deep crevices while their pursuers followed methodically from hideaway to hideaway, patient but earnest in their hunt. In turn, larger carnivores stalked these lesser hunters. Secure in their place at the top of the Mojave's food chain, the apex predators walked unchallenged across the desert and brought fear and death wherever they went.

Concealed away in a rocky alcove, a small campfire burned warmly. Sunk a foot into the loose earth, the fire's ambient light was masked as it released its heat into the earth and air. A second, smaller hole dug into the wall of the fire pit allowed the fire to pull in oxygen and burn stronger while keeping the main pit as small as possible.

Two figures were huddled around the fire. One lay wrapped tightly in a sleeping bag fast asleep while the other sat with his back to a wall, sharpening an axe and singing softly. A deep resonance rose from the center of his chest and reverberated slightly in the cramped enclosure. Giving the axe-head one last stroke of his whetstone, the man examined his work and, satisfied with the result, placed it on the ground. Taking up the next weapon from beside him, he began his work again, once more filling the concealed campsite with his quite song and the sound of stone against metal.

For a few minutes, the man's song and work continued uninterrupted when seemingly without reason, he froze — the lyrics of his song dying quickly in his throat. Without moving the rest of his body, the man scoured the small campground with his eyes before relaxing and returning to his work.

"You enjoy music then?" he asked, smilingly slightly and raising his head to look up to the night sky. Another figure sat atop one of the rocks that made up the sanctuary's walls. Dropping down and grabbing the lip of his perch with one hand, the figure hung momentarily before completing the fall to the campsite below. The sleeping denizen of the camp rolled over once and mumbled incoherently when he landed, voicing her distress at almost being awoken.

"Yes," the new figure replied, moving to sit cross-legged next to the fire, directly across from the relaxed man who continued to sharpen his weapon. "That is, as long as the singer is as capable as you. Some people think they were given the gift of voice and do their best to make sure everybody knows it, when in actuality they were given the gift of listening and are too busy filling the air with the sound of their own voice to realize it."

The relaxed man glanced at the sitting figure, raising one eyebrow pointedly before replying, "One does not need a gift to use their voice well," he stated. "Every man is given a voice. That voice can be trained and taught, and when time comes, the voice will sing."

The figure nodded and looked at the fire between them, seeming to choose his next words carefully before asking the man, "Who taught you to sing, Ursus?"

Ursus stiffened at the question, looking towards the sleeping figure beside the fire before returning his gaze back to his seated companion. Sighing slightly, he continued his work, eyes lost in thought as the silence grew. "My mother," he replied finally, "before I was taken from her."

Looking up from the fire, Denn's eyes met those of his hulking companion causing the man to pause in his work. Not for the first time, the deep black of the Courier's irises unsettled Ursus, but he held Denn's gaze, refusing to look away.

"Who was she?" Denn asked.

"A healer," Ursus replied, returning to his work, "a fighter, a warrior, a savior to some, but most of all, she was a leader. When the Legion came, she would not yield. For weeks she led them in a desperate chase through the canyons of our home, laying traps and ambushes that devastated their numbers. There was too many of them, however, and eventually we were captured. Taken before Caesar, she was forced onto her knees, but refused to recognize him as her leader. She maintained her refusal as Caesar had my brothers killed. I was the youngest, and the last to be taken from her, but I was not killed. Cutting out her tongue, Caesar had her face disfigured and made her watch in chains as I was raised as a Legionary.

"As I grew, I did not know that she was still there. I was told she had been killed, and was too young to recognize her after Caesar scarred her face. Unable to tell me she was my mother, she lived in constant torture as I was molded into what she hated most. When I turned sixteen, I overheard a group of Praetorians speaking of my mother's fate. I would occasionally see her in passing as my training continued, but was unable to speak with her. Only once was I alone with her. She refused to look at me or acknowledge my questions. After that, I left the Legion with the defeat of the Malpais Legate at Boulder City. As far as I know, she is still serving Caesar. Someday she will return to me, in this life or the next."

A loud snore greeted the conclusion of Ursus' story. Glancing over as the third denizen of the camp moved fitfully in her sleep, Denn and Ursus smiled at one another. They spent the next few minutes in silence – Denn staring at the burning embers of the fire and Ursus continuing his work sharpening his collection of weapons.

Once again, Denn broke the silence. "I will see your mother freed," he stated, meeting Ursus' gaze. "I will break the chains that bind her and return what life Caesar has taken."

Ursus smiled. "I hope you will, my friend, but know no matter where she is, the memory of the woman she was is always within me."

Denn nodded once more and stood, bowing slightly to his seated companion before moving towards the exit of the campsite.

"Should get some rest," Ursus said, gesturing to a bedroll sitting unused at one side of the fire. "I will take next watch."

"I'll be fine," the Courier stated simply. "ED-E and I can handle it. Sleep, my friend, we reach Novac tomorrow." Looking back towards Ursus for a moment before turning away, the Courier strode quickly from the campsite.

Watching his companion leave, Ursus sighed and glanced at the third occupant of the campsite. "Optimist to a fault, no?" he asked, not expecting a response. The woman didn't surprise him as she continued to sleep deeply – and disruptively – as a cavernous snore rumbled through the campsite. Shaking his head, Ursus struck his whetstone against his knife one last time, his eyes dark and mournful as they inspected the tempered steel. Returning the blade to the ground beside him, he reached into his coat and pulled out an innocuous gold coin. Worn and dull, on one side the coin was marked with the silhouette of a proud man while the other carried the symbol of a charging bull. Holding the coin in his palm, Ursus stared at it, deep in thought.

"Ave, true to Caesar," Ursus said softly, his gaze once again moving to the entrance of the alcove. Slowly returning the coin back to his coat, Ursus settled himself against the wall and closed his eyes, humming softly for a few minutes before drifting off to sleep.

.

* * *

.

 ** _October 23rd, 2281, 7:43 a.m._**

"Hold still."

Tugging slightly, the Courier disconnected Veronica's helmet and its heads-up display from the rest of her armor. Denn set the helmet to the side and pulled a cable from his Pip-Boy, inserting it into the HUD port in Veronica's armor. Veronica shifted uncomfortably causing Denn to lightly slap her on the head before he continued to analyze her armor's status.

Veronica stared at the doorway, Denn having turned her to face the other direction when he had begun to work on her armor. She coughed awkwardly, seeming unsure of how to proceed. "So, um, thanks for the save," she said finally.

"I won't always be there, you know," Denn replied. "You should've ran when you had the chance – stuck to the plan."

"I couldn't just abandon that man to – " Veronica started to reply before trailing off. They sat in silence for a few moments, the hum of the dam and the clicks of the Pip-Boy's dials filling the air.

"Are you ok?" Veronica asked finally, turning her head to look at the Courier and earning herself another tap on the head.

"I will be," Denn answered. He paused for a moment before continuing quietly, "He made his choice."

"Well yeah, but –" Veronica began.

"No more," Denn interrupted. "We're going to have to get you out of this armor – the left arm needs maintenance before it will be combat ready." He reached around and pulled the release on Veronica's armor. With a hiss, the chestplate pushed forward and separated in half, exposing Veronica's chest and waist. The former scribe wore only a thin jumpsuit under the heavy armor. Pulling her arms out one at a time, Veronica extracted herself from the bulky exoskeleton.

Holding the armor up with one knee until Veronica was free of it, Denn turned a dial on his Pip-Boy causing it to reseal itself. The Courier twisted a few more dials as Veronica stretched, locking up the armor completely. Unhooking his cable from the power armor, Denn rose and moved to the far doorway. Roughly, he pulled off the door's access panel and began work on locking it closed. "In the next room is a Legionary," he said. "Put on his armor."

"I'd probably be better sticking with this outfit," Veronica stated, throwing a few punches at the air, seeming to enjoy the weightlessness of her actions. "Football gear is too bulky and not enough _power-y_ for my tastes. Without power I'd rather be fast than armored. Plus, it probably smells like Legionary."

"It's not for protection," Denn replied simply, focusing on his work. "Or smell, for that matter. Now go put it on."

"Fine," Veronica relented, jogging into the next room while running her fingers through her short raven colored hair. The Legionary in question lay sprawled out next to a duffle bag. Free of cuts, the Legionary seemed to be soundly asleep. She nudged the soldier with her foot uneasily as if expecting him to jump to his feet at any moment. Noticing that his chest was unmoving, Veronica sighed. "Forced to wear the armor of a recently deceased wannabe-Heisman," she deadpanned. "Everything's turning up Veronica."

She started to remove the Legionary's clothing, taking care to avoid touching his skin as much as possible. Pulling the shoulder pads over her head, Veronica was adjusting the armor awkwardly when Denn walked into the room.

"You have to take off your jumpsuit," Denn said, turning to close the door he had came out of and beginning the process of sealing it.

"I have to what?" Veronica asked, staring blankly at Denn's back.

"It won't be a good disguise if you have that jumpsuit underneath," Denn explained. "Don't worry, I won't look."

Sighing dejectedly for the second time in so many minutes, Veronica removed the armor she had already equipped and slipped out of her Jumpsuit. She glanced towards Denn to make sure he wasn't watching before slipping on the Legionary's undershirt and putting the armor back in place. It wasn't difficult to equip, and by the time she had finished tightening the final clasps, Denn had finished locking the door.

Turning to face her, Denn briefly examined her disguise. "You make a passable slave-soldier, Miss. Santangelo," he said. "Better put on the helmet and face-wrap through, your feature's are not exactly masculine enough to pass as a Legionary's."

"Thanks for the compliment, boss," Veronica replied, putting on the helmet and wrapping the bandana around her face, "Why am I wearing this getup anyway? If I say something, any Legionary worth his salt will be able to tell I'm not Legion."

"Well, I guess you'll have to keep your mouth shut then," Denn said, moving to open the duffle bag.

"Never heard that before," Veronica muttered sarcastically. Crossing her arms as Denn rummaged through the bag, she stared at him for a few moments in silence. "What are we doing anyway?" she finally asked.

Finding what he was searching for, Denn tossed a power fist up to Veronica. The former Scribe deftly caught it and slipped it onto her right hand. Punching her fist into the air, she activated the weapon's pneumatics, causing its hydraulic jack to leap forward.

"Sneak attack," Denn answered, standing and pulling the duffle bag's strap over his shoulder. Turning his back to Veronica, he began to trot out of the room.

Looking down at the filthy armor she was wearing, Veronica sighed for the third and final time. "After this battle I am going to wear the shit out of a dress," she said determinedly, "practicality be dammed." Resigning herself to her fate, Veronica jogged after the Courier.

.

* * *

.

 ** _June 22nd, 2281, 3:45 p.m._**

"Was all of it a lie?"

Denn's knife was pressed tightly against Ursus' neck, the blade already red with blood from a cut across the man's chest. Holding Ursus' right arm above his head by wedging his own arm behind the Legion soldier's neck, Denn used his left leg to keep Ursus' remaining upper extremity immobile. The hulking figure was completely at the Courier's mercy.

"Yes." Ursus answered, his voice quiet and strained.

The combatants were still for a moment. Finally, Denn released Ursus from the chokehold and stood up, moving away from the prone Legionaire. "Go."

Rubbing his neck wearily, Ursus rose to his knees and looked up at Denn as the Courier moved away. "I am sorry, my friend," he said.

"Tell it to Gannon," Denn replied bitterly, stopping and turning to look back at Ursus. Staring at the crouched figure for a few more moments, the Courier opened the doorway to the Remnants bunker and limped through it, letting the door close behind him.

Ursus rose slowly, wincing as he unintentionally strained the cut on his chest. Turning away from the closed door, he began to walk slowly to the east. A frumentarii agent was stationed at an NCR outpost nearby and could relay the information he had to Caesar. Ursus had failed in his mission – the Courier had convinced the Remnants to side against the Legion in the coming battle.


	5. Chapter 4 - Veronica

.

Satin gold. That was the most accurate comparison Veronica could think of for the woman's hair as it fell in waves across her slight shoulders. The doctor seemed oblivious to the subtle glow – the cascading halo – that served to highlight her dancing azure eyes. As Veronica watched, she grasped another Follower's arm and smiled, painted nails adding strength to the light embrace. A ping of envy raced through the former Scribe's mind and was just as quickly discarded as the golden entity turned towards her and the smile grew. Realizing her mouth had involuntarily opened, Veronica snapped it shut and turned her attention to purposelessly shuffling through her bag. Faint footsteps pounded through her ears and her heart began to race as the figure approached.

"It's Veronica, right?"

"Yeah, it is. Sorry, my mind was somewhere else."

"It's fine. My name's Lyn, and technically I'm the person in charge around here, so I thought I'd introduce myself."

"Nice to meet you, Lyn. You weren't around the last time I dropped in here, right?"

"That's likely; I'm actually fresh from Angel's Boneyard!"

"Angel's Boneyard? Right, Las Angeles."

"You know your history, Miss…"

"Oh! Santangelo."

"Miss Santangelo. Do you have any idea how to fix a micro-fusion generator?"

"Of course! Should be fairly simple as long as you don't blindfold me or tie me up or anything."

"Don't tempt me… anyway, Lucas around back could use your help fixing the array we have set up there."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'll get right on that."

"Oh, sorry, that first bit was out loud, wasn't it?"

"I thought I just imagined you said it..."

"Maybe you did. Crimson looks good on you, Miss Santangelo – really brings out the color of your eyes. I'll talk to you later?"

"Y-yeah! Sounds good."

.

* * *

.

"So, what's with the nail polish?"

"Oh God… everyone always has to ask about the nail polish."

"Well, it is kind of an oddity for the Mojave! People normally just stick with their natural fleshy color."

"Fleshy is such a gross word. Ok, fine, I'll tell you. It started off as an order, basically."

"You get ordered to put on nail polish? I should have joined the Followers sooner…"

"It's not like that! Back in the Boneyard, I was really invested in my work. All my free time and extra caps went back into the Followers. Julie Farkas and I were – and are, I guess – close friends, so she constantly tried to get me to loosen up. Finally, when Julie was promoted to come out here and lead the Mojave mission, she told me to spend some time for just me. I said I'd give it a shot, she said it wasn't up for debate – used her newfound authority to get some Follower guards to escort me to a local bazaar and told them to not let me work again until I bought something for myself. First stall we passed had a bunch of nail polish, so I picked some up and said we could go back. The guards insisted that I put the stuff on before they'd let me get back to work.

"Turns out doing your nails is actually really cathartic. Or, it is for me at least, so I kept doing it. Once a month I make a night of it. Clean off the last of the previous month's polish and put on the new coat. I actually started doing my toes too, though no one can ever tell. Follower work isn't exactly light, so the polish usually gets chipped away fairly quickly, but for a day or two, they look and feel fantastic. Really helps me unwind."

"Huh… where do you even get nail polish out here?"

"I thought you were supposed to be a procurement specialist?"

"I am! I just never had anybody request nail polish back at… back home."

"Right… well... I'd be happy to introduce you to my supplier! A fellow up in the strip hooks me up with all things nail-related, why don't you join me on my resupply mission next week?"

"Are you sure? I've only been here for a couple months."

"You've done plenty to help out, so I think you deserve some R&R. Plus, I've got a room reserved in the Ultra-Luxe so we can make a weekend out of it. Don't tell anybody, but the Followers are actually taking control of the Casino!"

"Wait, Denn… er… the Courier is reopening the Ultra-Luxe?"

"Yes-mam! Him and Julie have been in talks for a while now. It's mainly going to be a restaurant and hotel, but there still has to be some gambling. Julie's not exactly ecstatic about that, but the condition for our taking control was we had to keep everything in the black."

"Wonder why he never mentioned anything about it…"

"Well, if the rumors about why the White Glove society just up and vanished are true, the Ultra Lux is probably not a subject he would enjoy talking about. Anyway, what do you say? Want to be my plus one for the grand re-opening?"

"I thought this was just going to be a resupply mission?!"

"Ok, I may have an ulterior motive or two for having you join me… All my friends from back home are going to be there, and I would love to show up with a raven-haired bombshell on my arm to make them regret not signing up for the mission.

"I don't know… It'll take more than unfounded flattery to get me to attend a party."

"Well, if you keep fishing for compliments, Miss 'Unfound Beauty,' I might have to use my authority to get you to come with me."

"Do you even _have_ authority over me?"

"No idea. I'd have to ask Julie, and she's going to be at the strip, so you might as well tag along. Also, the room has a Jacuzzi! "

"What's a Jacuzzi?"

"I have no clue… but Julie said they are pretty fantastic."

"Fine, you've got yourself a date."

.

* * *

.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon; what brings you back to the strip?"

"I'm a plus one. Speaking of which, have you seen a short blonde with painted nails?"

"A few of them, though I can't say I've been looking much at their nails."

"Pervert."

"Hey, I'm not the one actively pursuing one. How's the outpost treating you?"

"Quiet enough. I've gotten pretty much everything over there patched up and working smoothly. Feels good to be helping out."

"I'm glad. I've got an eyebot keeping watch on that area, by the way."

"Thanks _dad_ , but I'm pretty sure the Legion has better targets than a tower full of doctors. 'Specially doctors who are distant relations to ye olde Caesar."

"It's not the Legion I'm worried about…"

"Right… have you heard anything from the bunker?"

"Nothing. No scouts have been seen leaving the area either, but that's probably due to their dust screen blowing pretty much continuously. I guess they were uneasy with the knowledge that I'm watching them."

"Yeah, they're a paran–"

"Hey, Veronica! Over here!"

"There's the blonde one. I'll catch up with you later?"

"Probably not, there's a lot going on at the moment. Take care of yourself, alright?"

"Will do, boss."

.

* * *

.

"Rise and shine, Miss Alavrez!"

"Ugh, what time is it?"

"Hell if I know…"

"Then go find out what time it is and then wake me up, _Miss_ Santangelo."

"Really? Well, I guess I'll just take that hot Jacuzzi-bath all by myself then… more's the pity…"

"… You're incorrigible."

"That's the spirit. Now, take off your pants!"

.

* * *

.

"I'm back!"

"Hey, how did the meeting go?"

"Well enough. We're going to be working on increasing communication between the various Follower outposts, which means we've got to come up with a veritable _ton_ of mismatched parts."

"I know a guy or two; I could probably take care of most of the stuff you guys need."

"That would be fantastic! You really should've joined me – we could use someone more acquainted with the area to tell us which ideas are good and which are shit."

"Yeah… sorry, I just don't think I should get too involved at that level. I'm fine doing grunt-work, but… yeah."

"It's fine. Julie told me where you're from by the way. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone back at the outpost."

"I appreciate it. I wish Julie hadn't told you, though…"

"I'm glad she did. Now at least I know not to press too hard."

"Well… I wouldn't protest if you did in the right spot…"

"Tempting… but I should probably get back to the outpost. Mind getting the list of what we need from Julie and seeing what you can do?"

"I would love to… but there's one problem…"

"Really? What's that?"

"I ran another bath…"

"… Waste not…"

.

* * *

.

 ** _October 10th, 2281, 7:06 p.m._**

Veronica pulled at the ornery Brahmin's lead as she made her way across the train tracks leading to the Follower's outpost. The overburdened quadruped had been ready to stop for the night a few miles ago, but Veronica had pressed on, unwilling to rest so close to her destination.

Finally, the Brahmin had enough and came to a stop. Veronica frowned at the protesting mammal and yanked on its lead. The animal's two heads bayed morosely and shook, quite unhappy at their current situation.

Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot exploded through the quiet evening. Veronica dropped into a defensive stance, pulling out a revolver warily. The Brahmin ceased its complaints and stood perfectly still, aware of the significance of gunfire. Veronica's eyes widened as she realized the shot had come from the Follower's outpost. Dropping the pack animal's lead, she sprinted towards the distant building.

As she approached, she looked over the surrounding area. There was no movement, and the tower itself was completely dark. A sense of dread plunged into the pit of her stomach and she charged the outpost. Taking the stairs two at a time, she slammed through the building's doorway.

A cloud of residue rose into the air from her sudden entry. Veronica's breath caught in her throat as the bitter stench of death struck her senses like a sledge. Mounds of ash had spread across the floor – the last remains of vaporized corpses. Half a dozen bodies lay strewn around the room with three more lying in its center, fallen forward with their arms tied behind their backs. She froze at the sight of one of the bound corpses, its blonde hair fallen haphazardly across the ground and the nails on its hands painted crimson.

Without knowing how she got there, Veronica was suddenly on her knees, lifting the body from the bloodstained ash and turning it to face her. Lyn's eyes were open, but her piercing blue gaze was vacant. A hole the size of a bottle cap scarred the center of the woman's forehead, blood seeping from the gaping wound.

Veronica clutched the corpse to her chest, grief tearing its way through her with ragged cries.

"I'm sorry, Veronica."

She looked up. Four Brotherhood paladins were grouped around her, their weapons held loosely in their arms.

"Why?" She pleaded, her voice broken and quiet.

"We've been watching the Followers since you first arrived. When you left and the outpost leader returned alone to begin constructing a point-to-point communicator, we knew you had shared Brotherhood technology," one of them answered, she couldn't tell which.

"I didn't… they–"

"Passing Brotherhood secrets to outsiders is the lowest form of treason," a second voice stated. "In the name of the Elder, I sentence you to death."

Veronica dropped her gaze to Lyn's face, brushing a stray hair from the woman's forehead before clutching her tightly. She felt the barrel of a gun push against the back of her head and closed her eyes, tears falling freely into her lover's hair.

Suddenly, the outpost's door slammed open. The gun lifted from Veronica's head, but she refused to open her eyes.

"This is none of your concern, Courier," a voice different from the others stated.

"Leave. Now," the Courier's voice hissed – a whisper carrying the weight of death behind it.

Silence followed the Courier's demand. The sound of a heavy footstep caused the Brotherhood Paladins to ready their weapons, laser optics humming dangerously. The gun barrel returned to the back of Veronica's head.

"Stay back, or I'll–"

Veronica screamed in fury and reached behind her head, yanking the Guass rifle from the Paladin's hands and rising violently. Slamming the butt of the weapon into the soldier's head, she turned and aimed the rifle at the man's chest. Laser fire erupted behind her, but she didn't care.

Propelled by a series of electromagnetic coils to speeds approaching Mach 3, the Guass rifle's projectile tore through the Paladin's armor like wet paper and sent him flying against the wall behind him. Veronica walked forward, waiting patiently for the weapon to recharge.

The second shot punched through the Paladin's heart and blood erupted from his chestplate. The third slammed through the armored helmet as well as the wood behind it. The forth destroyed the helmet completely. The fifth tore apart the corpse's waist and caused the body to slide limply to the ground.

Veronica continued to pull the weapon's trigger, but its magazine was empty. She grabbed the barrel of the rifle – not caring as the burning metal scarred her hands – and began to beat the armored corpse in front of her, screaming in powerless rage.

A hand grasped her shoulder and she lashed out at it, catching the man behind her with a glancing blow. Before she could ready another strike, the figure yanked the weapon from her hands and spun her around.

The Courier held her shoulders tightly – a streak of laser burns flaring angrily across his arm and a cut across his forehead bleeding heavily. Veronica struck her fist against his chest, screaming once more before her shoulders slumped wearily. Suddenly, her legs lost all their strength, and the Courier supported her as she fell to the ash covered ground.

"It's all my fault… It's all my fault…" she sobbed repeatedly, clutching the Courier helplessly.

Denn could only hold her in silence – his eyes locked unblinkingly onto the corpse of the Brotherhood Paladin before him.

.

* * *

.

 ** _October 22nd, 2281, 2:59 a.m._**

A loud knock dragged Veronica out of her slumber and she bolted up into a sitting position, cold sweat covering her skin. A second knock reverberated through the room. Reluctantly, she pulled herself from the bed and walked over to the door, releasing it's locking mechanism and allowing it to slide open.

"We're leaving in an hour," the Courier said quietly, holding out a see-through plastic bag containing a cleaned NCR uniform and matching helmet. The Courier was wearing a similar uniform, with a bandana wrapped tightly around his face and a goggled helmet strapped to his head.

"Yeah," Veronica replied, grabbing the bag and keying the doorway closed.

Denn caught the door and held it open. Veronica stared at him and whatever he had wanted to say died weakly in his throat. They stood in silence for a moment – the low hum of the Lucky 38 a quiet reminder of the passage of time.

"You don't… have to do this," Denn said finally, fingers clenching the smooth metal of the door tightly.

"I know… I'm going to, though," Veronica stated, reaching out and gripping the Courier's shoulder. "There's no way I'm letting my friends take the worst the wasteland has to offer while I sit in a tower and cry."

"Everyone grieves."

"I know… and I will, just not… not right now."

The Courier nodded. "Before you put the uniform on, go see Raul and Arcade. They have something for you."

"Oh? What is it?

"They asked me to keep it a surprise. Wear your jumpsuit, by the way."

"Power armor?"

"You'll have to ask them."


	6. Chapter 5 - Hoover Dam IV

**_._**

 ** _October 23rd, 2281, 8:01 a.m._**

"So what're we waiting for?"

Denn glanced over at Veronica and put his finger in front of his rebreather in a shushing motion. Veronica scowled at him, and the action disturbed the bandana covering her mouth, causing her to gag slightly. Shaking his head, Denn turned his attention back to the doorway that separated the tower they were standing in from the top of the Dam.

The sounds of orders being shouted and the clamor of battle could be heard through the metal. The NCR had managed to bar the door and the Legion, having a more easily accessible path to their opponent, had given it no more than a cursory examination when they passed. The screams of the dying and the righteous cries of the living reverberated through the doorway.

"Do you really have to kick me?" Veronica asked.

"Yes." Den answered.

"Why?"

"Believability."

"I'm not that terrible at acting. Why don't I just pretend to be thrown out there?"

"I couldn't throw you that hard."

"Well _they_ don't know that!"

"Stop complaining or I'll use both feet."

"Oh yeah, that would make it so –" Veronica began to quip before Denn held up his hand, causing her complaint to die in her throat.

"It's time," he said, moving over to stand on one side of the piece of metal that barred the door.

Feeling her heart begin to beat faster, Veronica did her best to quiet her nerves as she took her place across from Denn.

"Stay down until the smoke spreads," Denn said calmly. "We have to stay alive until backup arrives. Play on their confusion – cripple, disorient, maim – don't get locked down on one opponent."

Veronica nodded, falling into a practiced calm as she lifted the metal bar slightly, gauging its weight as she prepared to lift and throw it to the side.

Above the cries and shouts of battle, she began to hear a steady and incessant buzz. The shouting outside the door seemed to grow more earnest as the noise drew closer. Sounding much like a swarm of angry Cazadores, the drone passed almost directly overhead as a dull roar. A series of high-pitched whines followed its passing and seemed almost innocent compared to the disturbance that preceded them.

Suddenly, the air was filled with the sounds of tremendous explosions. The reverberations of the bombardment rumbled through the metal of the door and the concrete on which the Courier and Veronica stood.

Denn nodded to Veronica and the two of them lifted the heavy piece of metal and threw it to the side. Veronica shifted to stand in front of the door with her arms held in front of her chest while Denn moved into position and kicked his foot against Veronica's arms.

The Courier's heel released a burst of sound and force and Veronica felt herself lifted bodily off the ground. Crashing through the door, she landed on a group of three Legionaries. The four of them went down in a heap. The Legion soldiers nearby gaped at the jumble of bodies before looking at the now-open door. Two metal canisters sailed through it, spilling forth clouds of white smoke. Following directly after the canisters, the Courier came sprinting through, throwing yet another smoke grenade into the Legion forces. Pip-Boy clicking steadily, his curved machete sliced through the air and any Legionaries unfortunate enough to be in his path.

Veronica found removing herself from the writhing pile of Legion soldiers difficult. Every time she tried to push herself out of the mess of flailing limbs, she was jostled and forced back down. When one of the soldiers accidently smacked her across the face in his attempt to rise, she had had enough. Grabbing his wrist with her left hand, she punched out with her power fist. The Legionary screamed in agony as his elbow hyper-extended and his arm bent seventy degrees in the wrong direction. Forcefully pulling the soldier's arm straight again as he continued to scream, Veronica brought the elbow of her right arm directly into his face. The blow staggered the wounded Legionary, allowing Veronica to roll backwards out of the pile. Pushing off the ground, Veronica turned the roll into a momentary handstand before landing lightly on her feet.

A Legionary roughly bumped into her from the side and Veronica backhanded him bitterly. Composing herself as the soldier fell to the ground, Veronica jabbed out twice with her power fist at the two uninjured Legionaries in the pile she had just recently vacated – striking one in the throat and the other on the bridge of his nose. Satisfied that the two Legionaries were out of the fight, she rose and briefly took in her surroundings.

The smoke obscured everything past a few feet. Legionaries tripped over fallen comrades as they fell back to the eastern side of the dam. Catching one Legionary as he stumbled by her, Veronica brought her power fist into the soldier's gut. The man's breath flew out of his lungs and he rose a few inches into the air before falling in a heap.

Smiling coyly, Veronica began to stagger around, imitating the retreating Legionaries. As Veronica would run into another moving figure, she would dispatch them with a quick punch or kick – even resorting to a headbutt for one opponent. "Glad Ramos didn't see that one," she said quietly as the victim of her helmeted-strike fell to the ground.

A heavy hand fell onto her shoulder and spun her around. A scowling Centurion wielding a thermic lance screamed at her almost incoherently, gesturing angrily at the fallen Legionary. Reflexively, Veronica shrugged at the Centurion. The officer's eyes narrowed and he took a closer look at Veronica's face. Realizing her jig was up, Veronica snapped out with her power fist, aiming for the man's chin.

The Centurion leaned back and only just avoided the vicious strike. Jumping back lightly on the balls of his feet, he readied his weapon and its tip began to spark angrily. Veronica hesitated, unwilling to step within the thermic lance's range. Originally used as industrial tools, thermic lances could cut through steel girders to say nothing of used football pads.

A group of Legionaries noticed the standoff and moved to stand at the Centurion's side. As one, the soldiers stepped forward, pressing Veronica back.

Growing more confident as Veronica continued to retreat, the Centurion smiled widely. "Nowhere left to go, _profligate_ ," he said mockingly.

" _Salve amicus_ ," Veronica replied gruffly, doing her best to speak as lowly as possible.

The Centurion stared at her confusedly for a moment and in that instant the Courier appeared. Moving as fast as a charging deathclaw, Denn leaped out of the billowing cloud behind Veronica. The Courier seemed to be a crimson extension of the heavy smoke, covered from head to toe in freshly spilled blood. The Centurion's eyes widened as his opponent slipped right past his extended weapon. Before he could react, Denn's machete leapt out, opening the officer's neck all the way to the bone.

The Courier fell on the remaining Legionaries like a crashing wave. Pulling the thermic lance from the dying Centurion's grasp with his left hand, he flipped it in the air and jammed its sparking emitter into the throat of the Legionary to the dying Centurion's right. The soldier screamed and desperately pulled the burning lance away from him, clutching the burnt flesh of his throat. Denn drooped the weapon and flicked his wrist causing a knife to appear seemingly out of nowhere. Sending the blade spinning through the air, the Courier embedded it into another soldier's chest.

As he threw the knife, the Legionary to Denn's right swung his machete at the Courier's extended right arm, hoping to at least disarm his opponent of his curved machete. As the blade fell, Denn's wrist moved impossibly fast, slicing his sharpened weapon completely through the Legionary's forearm. Staring at his bleeding stump, the Legionary fell to his knees in shock – his mind unable to comprehend the massive trauma he had suffered – and had his confusion ended forever as the Courier took his head from his shoulders.

The remaining Legionaries finally registered what had happened and began to flee – tripping over themselves in their desperate attempt to get away from the deadly Courier. Denn watched their retreat for a moment, as if debating whether to pursue them or not. Finally, he reached behind his head and flicked off the radiation generator. His shoulders slumped as his Pip-Boy slowly stopped clicking.

Turning to face Veronica, Denn suddenly doubled over and fell to his knees. Ripping off his rebreather, the Courier's mouth erupted in a cascade of blood. Veronica sprinted over to her crouched companion, confused and terrified at what was going on. Denn looked up towards her and grinned sheepishly, his cracked lips covered with a thin layer of crimson.

"I'm alright," Denn said hoarsely, spitting up the last remnants of blood from his mouth. Reattaching his rebreather, Denn stood uneasily and pulled a small syringe from within his coat. The Courier carefully removed the syringe's cap and stabbed it into the side of his neck, shaking appreciatively as the medicine immediately had an effect.

Shaking his head, Denn did his best to focus through the medically induced haze. "We have to get back to the tower," he said finally. "The NCR is taking their time clearing the Legion from the other side. Hopefully Lanius is hesitant enough that we'll be left alone till the Remnants show up. Move."

As the Courier started to jog back to the tower, he faltered. Veronica caught him just before he fell to his knees. Putting his arm across her shoulder, she began to half carry him across the dam's walkway.

"What was that?" Veronica asked as they moved slowly over the bloodstained concrete. "How did you move so fast?"

"Chems," Denn replied. Veronica turned her head to look at him disbelievingly. She knew the sound of a Geiger counter when she heard one, but refrained from pressing the Courier for the truth. Denn tried once more to walk under his own power, but was unable to.

"Stop that," Veronica chastised, slapping his helmet lightly. Denn shook his head and leaned more heavily on her.

" _Oof_. You're heavy for a smaller guy, you know?" Veronica quipped, shifting his weight to a more comfortable position.

"It's all those chems," Denn said, almost tripping over a prone Legionary.

"All right, Mr. 'Great Khan," she replied, keeping the Courier from falling to the ground. "Those things will kill you, you know," she said more seriously.

"I'll die from something else long before that happens," Denn replied. Raising his hand to stop her rebuttal, the Courier looked behind him. "They're regrouping. We have to get to the tower." Increasing his own pace, Denn veritably pulled Veronica along until they reached their destination.

Setting the Courier down to rest inside the tower, Veronica looked back to the Legion side of the dam. The smoke was now slightly easier to see through, but Veronica noticed that it seemed to clump together. This made its shape oddly pillow-like, seeming more similar to a feature of the sky than a man-made fogbank.

"I've never seen smoke act like that," she said, tilting her head to the side quizzically. "What keeps it from dissipating like smoke usually does?"

"Variation of pre-war tech," Denn replied, "Smoke didn't do much good with the invention of infrared, so they added different elements to screw with enemies sensors. I figured out a way to make these elements want to stick together, basically. Keeps the smoke from blowing away in all but the strongest winds."

"Those added elements aren't toxic, right?"

"I hope not."

Veronica laughed hollowly. Her body felt heavy now that the adrenaline from the battle had passed. "So what do we do if the Legion gets here before the Remnants?" she asked.

"Lose the battle," Denn replied, clenching his right fist experimentally and shaking his head hazily from side to side.

"No plan B?"

"One plan B."

"What's plan B?"

"You hold them off while I make my daring escape."

"I hate plan B."

"That's what they all say until the morning after."

"What?"

"Never mind," Denn said, looking up to Veronica. "From what E-DE can see, the Legion will reach us soon. Our little display made them cautious, but they've still got the NCR at a disadvantage, especially since Oliver is holding his troops back – pretty sure the bastard wants the Legion to kill us. Cass can't help from where she is."

Veronica nodded, thankful that the little robot was in place to keep watch on the battlefield. Denn had outfitted E-DE with a small pair of boosters from the REPCONN test site that let it fly much higher than it had previously been able to. Almost literally an eye in the sky, E-DE transmitted tactical information directly to the Courier.

Veronica bit her lip as she looked at Denn in his weakened state. "What really happened out there?" she asked pointedly. "There's no _way_ chems made you move that fast."

"I'll tell you after the battle," Denn said, looking back to the ground. "For now, focus. The Remnants are al –" Denn's sentence was interrupted as the air was filled with the angry drone of an aircraft. A Vertibird suddenly appeared, instantly dispersing the heavy smoke as its dual rotors carried it scarcely five feet from the dam's concrete walkway. As the smoke blew away, the approaching Legionaries found themselves dangerously exposed. The soldiers scrambled to find cover behind the overturned NCR fortifications, but the Vertibird's pilot opened fire too quickly.

Bullets capable of puncturing power armor tore though the Legion troops like scythes through wheat. A hatch opened at the back of the Vertibird and four figures rushed out with military precision, pulling a segmented crate along with them. As soon as its payload had been delivered, the Vertibird left, screaming away down the front of the dam. The Legion finally reacted to the aerial attack, and a pair of missiles chased after the fleeing aircraft, but its movement was too unpredictable for them to reach their mark.

Representing the strength of the old world, the Remnants stood tall and proud as they surveyed the battlefield. Two of them wore power armor similar to the kind Veronica had been forced to leave behind – one armed with a heavy mini-gun and the other equipped with a humming Gatling laser cannon. The remaining two figures were substantially less protected, but no less imposing. The shorter of the two was outfitted with what appeared to be an armored radiation suit and carried a laser rifle over one shoulder and a duffle bag over the other. The final Remnant was conspicuously unarmored, wearing only a grey and black officer's uniform. His skin was dark and sun worn and his eyes carried years of experience. Wielding an anti-material rifle, he barked a series of orders to the armored soldiers. The two strode forward and stood at opposite sides of the dam's walkway – daring the Legion to try to move them.

"See what's wrong with the Courier, Henry," the officer ordered, pulling off a section of the crate as he jogged through the tower's opened doors. "I'm going up top to get a vantage point."

The radiation suit armored Remnant moved forward and leaned down to remove Denn's helmet, but the Courier waved him away. "I see the side effects of your little medical-oddity are still in full effect," the doctor said as he held out his hand and helped Denn rise to his feet. "How did my little concoction help? Any mitigation of the internal bleeding or nausea?"

"Significantly, yes. Thank you, Henry," Denn answered. "I was also able to stay under significantly longer without blacking out."

Doctor Henry nodded studiously and seemed to stare off into the middle distance, beginning to talk as if he was the only one present, "That shows a marked increase. Perhaps additional Rad-x would allow even longer utilization without a decrease in–" Denn coughed pointedly, breaking off the doctor's train of thought and the new arrival seemed to notice Veronica for the first time. "Ah! You must be the little Brotherhood scribe we've heard so much about!"

Veronica bristled at the doctor's statement and looked pointedly at the Courier. "Former scribe, actually," she replied shortly, "and oddly enough, I haven't heard anything about you."

Sensing Veronica's anger, the Remnant doctor shifted uncomfortably. "I apologize," he said. "One loses his manners when he spends his time almost solely in the company of super mutants. They find little point in social decorum, and I'm afraid it's a habit that has rubbed off a fair amount on myself."

"Consider your apology accepted, on the condition you tell me what the hell is going on with 'Ranger Reject' over here," Veronica bargained.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mam," Henry replied, stiffening and putting on the airs of a pompous physician. "Patient confidentiality is something I cannot forgo, despite the barbaric nature of this wasteland."

"Right…" Veronica said, putting her hands on her hips and staring at the doctor for a moment before turning back to Denn. "So what happens now, boss?"

Her answer came in the form of a loud explosion from the dam walkway followed by a cascade of mini-gun and Gatling laser fire. The Courier knelt down and opened the duffle bag Doctor Henry had delivered. "Veronica, go and see what's holding up Oliver," Denn ordered, pulling a large cylinder from the duffle bag along with a bandolier of heavy looking canisters. "We'll need the NCR to hold the dam if this whole thing is going to work, and they can't do that from where they currently are. Make sure to take off your helmet so Oliver doesn't have an excuse to shoot you." Denn flicked open a hatch on the cylinder and pressed a button, causing the object to begin to hum mechanically. The top and bottom of the device extended and a viewfinder appeared. Two handles popped out from its side and the Courier hefted the weapon experimentally onto his shoulder. Nodding to Veronica, he moved to the staircase leading to the top of the tower.

Grumbling to herself, Veronica crouched and ran out of the room. She cleared the distance between the tower and the fortification that separated the East side of the dam from the West in record time. Pushing its doorway open and slipping inside, she was greeted with a scene of Hell on earth.

Corpses littered the floor of the small room. Facedown Legionaries with their torsos torn open by gunfire surrounded the doorway in a staggered half-circle, machetes soaking in the crimson pools that covered the cold concrete. NCR troopers lay where they had fallen, limbs torn from their bodies and their empty eyes staring unblinkingly up at Veronica.

The world closed in around her. Flashes of an ashen floor and bloodstained hands pulsed across her vision – blue eyes, empty and vacant. She fell back against the door as her chest tightened around her heart like a vice. Her left hand covered her mouth, and for the first time she was glad for the musky odor of the bandana. Her right hand rose to cover her eyes, the cool metal of her power fist a sharp contrast to the blood pumping furiously through her veins. She stood silently – her frame shaking as she breathlessly sobbed into her hand.

She was too young for death – not old enough to be jaded to that terror of reality.

Her right hand closed into a fist and she screamed into the bandana. Ripping off the threadbare fabric and her helmet, she pulled the shoulder pads over her head and threw them aside. Moving towards the doorway at the far side of the room, she stepped quickly across the corpse-covered floor, refusing to look at the scourge of war beneath her feet. Kicking the door open, she leaped through it to a nearby sandbag pile. A short burst of gunfire greeted her arrival before a bellowed order to ceasefire echoed across the concrete. Veronica stood and raised her hands above her head to indicate she was unarmed.

"Veronica!" a female voice shouted. Veronica squinted her eyes to find the source of the cry in the crowd of NCR Desert Rangers that had their guns trained on her. A straw hat ended her search, and the crimson-haired figure wearing it was still shouting at what appeared to be a very weary Ranger. Even though she couldn't distinguish what exactly Cass was saying, Veronica could guess the severity of the Ranger's situation. Rose of Sharon Cassidy carried the decorum of a world-weary wastelander and the vocabulary of an ornery prospector.

Shouting for a few more moments, Cass pointed angrily at Veronica and the Ranger finally relented, ordering his men to lower their weapons. Jogging towards the NCR lines, Veronica was greeted with a bear hug and the heady smell of whiskey. Cass lifted her in the air for a moment before setting her down and holding her at arms length. The redhead stared at Veronica, her eyes seeming troubled as she looked at her companions face. "Where's Denn?" she asked, her eyes hardening as she shook her head slightly.

"Holding off the Legion." Veronica answered. Turning towards the Ranger Cass had been addressing earlier, she continued, "He's wondering where the hell the NCR is. Apparently they're supposed to be defending this dam?"

The Ranger seemed just as frustrated as Veronica and Cass as he replied steadily, " _General_ Oliver ordered us to fortify our position and prepare for the Legion counter attack. We can't –"

"Brahmin shit!" Cass all but screamed at the beleaguered Ranger, tapping his chest roughly as she continued her tirade. "Oliver's using this whole damn battle for political gain and if you don't do something, it's going to end with a Legion machete through the throat of every NCR citizen in the Mojave! The NCR would already be back in Boulder City if the Courier hadn't stopped the Legion assault from inside the dam or given you a chance to deal with the Legionaries in the intake towers. Now he's holding back the entirety of the Legion forces while you all listen to the orders of an asshole!

"Fuck Oliver! If he had his way, you all would've been killed weakening the Legion, allowing him to rush in with his heavy troopers and save the day! Why do you think he put you in the middle of this shit box? At the first battle of Hoover Dam, Hanlon and the Rangers took all the glory, and now Oliver is doing his best to make sure that doesn't happen again!"

The Ranger's fists were clenched tightly and he was visibly shaking in anger. "Don't you think I know that!?" he replied through gritted teeth. "I know what's going on, but I can't do anything about it! If we push forward, we do so alone – without any support!"

"Sounds like you're fucked either way then!" Cass shouted back, rising on the balls of her feet and pushing her face inches from the Ranger's helmet. "Might as well go out pumping as much lead as possible into the assholes who're going to kill you!"

"Give me your helmet," Veronica said to the Ranger.

"What?" the Ranger asked, put off by the sudden change in the conversation. "Why?"

"Just do it so she stops shouting," Veronica quipped, holding out her hand and gesturing for the Ranger to hand over his headgear.

The Ranger seemed to weigh his options for a moment as he looked between the outreached hand and the seething redhead. His shoulders slumped dejectedly and he raised his hands, pulling off the riot helmet customary of veteran NCR Rangers. Handing it to Veronica, he crossed his arms and looked at Cass. The woman just glared at him before turning her attention to her companion.

Veronica fiddled inside the helmet for a moment before yanking out a circular device. The Ranger started and reached out towards Veronica, but Cass's hand leapt out and latched onto his arm. Shaking her head, Cass waited till Veronica had finished before releasing the Ranger.

"There," Veronica said, handing back the Ranger's helmet. "Your radio's busted. Since you can't reach command, I guess you'll have to make a tactical decision on your own, 'frontline battlefield necessities' and all that. Yeah, you won't have backup for a while, but when Oliver finds out that the battle is being won without him, he'll have no choice but to help out. Denn needs help now, not later. So, what're you Rangers going to do?"

The Ranger stared at the inside of his helmet and smiled. "You heard her, men," he said happily, "We've got a friend in need. Let's go save us a Courier."

Almost before their leader had finished his order, the Rangers sprinted towards the fortification in the middle of the dam. From the top of that building, they would have a tactical advantage on the approaching Legionaries, and with the Remnant's firepower backing them up, the Legion would be hard pressed to unseat the NCR a second time.

The lead Ranger nodded to Veronica and Cass appreciatively and followed after his men. Veronica stepped in the same direction but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She turned and found Cass staring intently at her. "Hey, you OK?" Cass asked earnestly.

"I will be," Veronica said, squeezing Cass' arm but refusing to meet her eyes. She pulled out of Cass' grasp and jogged to the center of the dam.

Cass watched as Veronica moved away and glanced back towards the ridge on the NCR side of the dam. Pulling her riot shotgun out of its holster on her back, she checked its ammo count before trotting after the silent Veronica.


	7. Chapter 6 - Red Lucy - Hoover Dam V

**_._**

 ** _September 28th, 2281, 1:43 p.m._**

Red Lucy climbed down the ladder leading to the Thorn's holding pens. The clamor of the crowd still echoed through the underground structure even though the fight between the Courier and the deathclaw had ended minutes before. Lucy's eyes glowed hungrily as she recalled the violent confrontation. The fight had been nothing if not marvelous, and the intensity of the two combatants still resonated within Red Lucy's heart.

Reaching the bottom of the ladder, she made her way towards where the Courier was waiting. Handlers rushed about, doing their best to keep the beasts of the Thorn under control. A pack of nightstalkers hissed loudly from a holding pen, antagonized by the vibrations of the raucous crowd. Molerats crowded together defensively in a corner of their pen with their young in the middle and the older, larger creatures surrounding them.

A pair of deathclaws were the only animals unaffected by the sound and aura of excitement in the Thorn. They lounged lazily in their enclosure, seemingly without a care in the world. As Red Lucy passed by them, the two creatures raised their heads and sniffed. Recognizing her scent, a low rumble emerged from one's chest and the other rose and moved towards the metal gate separating them from the rest of the Thorn.

Red Lucy stopped and held her glove out to the looming monster. Pushing its head forward through the metal bars, the deathclaw's horns caught against the gate, keeping it from reaching its head entirely out of its enclosure. The animal sniffed her blood-soaked hand.

A quiet hiss emerged from the deathclaw's throat and it looked into Red Lucy's eyes curiously. She made no movement and after a moment, the deathclaw snorted and stalked back to the center of the room. It bumped its head against its counterpart's, and the second deathclaw growled softly. The first animal seemed to shrug and dropped back down into a relaxed ball. Red Lucy could just make out the creature's eyes reflecting the light from the hallway, watching her warily. The Thorn's owner smiled slightly for a moment before continuing towards the staging area, her face returning to its customary emotionless mask.

Arriving at her destination, she reached forward to open the steel hatch. Her hand froze mid movement, and for the first time in recent memory, she was filled with trepidation.

When she had first encountered the man who would become known as the Courier four years ago, she had been thoroughly unimpressed. On a simple delivery mission, he had left the Thorn as quickly as he had come. Unable to meet Red Lucy's gaze for any extended amount of time, he had refused the offer to watch a match in the arena.

A year after this meeting, tales of the Courier's accomplishments began to reach Westside. Red Lucy had refused to believe them. There was no way the timid creature she had met was capable of the feats being accredited him. As the legend of the Courier grew, Red Lucy's opinion worsened. To her, he was a liar and a conman – taking advantage of the weak-minded to further bloat his own image.

Because of this, when he had arrived a month ago she had greeted him even more coldly than she normally acted. Distant as the grave, she refused to even listen to his request until he had completed a series of tasks for her. Red Lucy had sent him out to acquire eggs from the most dangerous of the wasteland's predators. He had returned, quickly and unharmed, two weeks later with the entire collection of eggs at once.

Such a feat had only made Red Lucy more wary. She suspected the Courier had purchased the eggs or somehow persuaded others to retrieve them for him, so she again refused to hear him out. He had surprised her when he had asked to fight in the Thorn against a deathclaw in order to earn her favor.

What had happened to the Courier to so vastly change the man? Red Lucy glanced down at the blade he had thrown to her. It was of a metal she had never seen before, and the sharpness of its edge was unparalleled. The lethality of the weapon echoed that of its owner, and Red Lucy reluctantly admitted that it impressed her. As she looked back up to the steel hatch, she realized it also intimidated her. She had defeated a deathclaw alone – once – but only after leading it into a trap at a location of her choosing. To fight a deathclaw head-on without a wide array of firearms was insanity. This man had done so, and he had won.

A jolt of electricity shot up her spine as she remembered the roar of the Courier and the response from the crowd. She frowned at the surge of excitement and the uncertainty that had preceded it. Emotion was not a hunter's ally, and hesitation in the midst of a chase was potentially a lethal mistake. She shook her head and purposefully opened the steel hatch, pushing the heavy metal open and making her way inside.

Steam filled the air as the hot water from the room's shower slowly washed the deathclaw's blood from the Courier's body. He stood with his back to Red Lucy, naked besides his glowing Pip-Boy. His unlatched rebreather hung loosely in one hand while his other scrubbed his flesh with a small block of abraxo. Even where the blood seemed to be cleared away, his skin retained a dull hint of crimson that contrasted sharply with the dark red of his scars and burns.

Red Lucy found herself unable to make a sound. Had he not heard her enter? She was accustomed to walking through the Thorn with impunity – it had not occurred to her to knock. She debated whether or not to leave the room and shifted uncomfortably in place, unsure of how to proceed.

"Still think my accomplishments are 'hollow lies?" the Courier asked suddenly, breaking the silence of the hissing water. His voice was deep and coarse, and his enunciation made it seem as if talking was difficult. He slowly reattached his rebreather as he waited for Red Lucy's response.

The leader of the Thorn cleared her throat, collecting her scattered thoughts. "I may only speak on what I saw," she said, "and what I saw was… impressive."

The Courier laughed and shut off the water before turning towards the doorway. A waist-high barrier protected his modesty, but everything above that was very, very visible. Hardened muscles corded tightly around his frame, overlapping one other beneath scarred skin. Steam rose from his body as he crossed his arms and put his weight on one foot, mimicking Red Lucy's customary pose.

The leader of the Thorn met the Courier's gaze and her breath faltered – her trepidation from before returning twofold. The man's irises were devoid of any color, the same as many of the predators of the Mojave. In them she saw the same savagery as the deathclaw she had encountered moments ago. His body was clearly human, but his eyes belonged to something else entirely.

The Courier dropped one eyebrow curiously and Red Lucy realized that she was staring. Shaking her head, she internally chastised herself and did her best to focus on her reason for being here. "You had something to ask of me?" she said.

"Perhaps we should wait until another time," the Courier stated, "I appear to have you at a disadvantage."

Red Lucy's eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. "Speak, hunter," she said icily, "this chance is your last."

"As you will," the Courier said, taking a towel and wrapping it around his waist before moving towards the doorway. There was a lupine grace in his step, and again Red Lucy saw him as something more than human. He stopped in front of the Thorn's leader and stood with his arms behind his back. Even with his stature being shorter than her own, she still felt intimidated by his presence, especially with his standing so close. "The Legion will soon attack Hoover Dam," he continued. "My allies and I will hold them back, but with the majority of our attention on the Legion, the various raider groups will use the chaos to their advantage. You must prepare Westside to withstand whatever attack comes its way. I will provide you with a squad of Securitrons to aid in this defense.

"In return, I ask that you and ten of your most capable hunters aid at the battle of Hoover Dam," he raised his hand as Red Lucy's eyes narrowed further. "You will not be deployed anywhere near the front lines. There have been rising reports of Cazadors in the area, and the NCR and myself are ill equipped to handle them at the same time as the Legion. All that I ask you to do is what you do best – hunt."

Red Lucy considered the Courier's request and did not find it that unappealing. She had found it more and more difficult to find time to leave the Thorn in the recent months. Additionally, Cazadors were a relatively new arrival to the wasteland, and she had been unable to test her strength against them as often as she would like. If what the Courier said was true and the various raider groups of the Mojave were preparing to use the upcoming chaos to their advantage, Westside would greatly benefit from the added armament of a few Securitrons.

More time spent with the Courier could also reveal what other strengths the man possessed…

A short cough interrupted her thought process and she realized that in her distracted state her eyes had wandered – betraying her as they traced the myriad of scars across the Courier's torso. Her gaze shot back up to meet the Courier's and her throat throttled whatever reply she had prepared.

His eyes, they were so much like a hunter's. There was such a profound intelligence, a calculating coldness. She could see something resembling a spark of humanity, but it seemed distant – disconnected. The level of detachment put Red Lucy on edge.

Detachment was an ideal she had pursued her entire life – there was too much she had already lost to the wasteland – and to see it so perfectly realized in a human being was astounding. She now understood that this is how she must appear to everyone else – her emotions kept locked deep within her, away from prying eyes. The Courier was the same yet, different, unknown.

Fire filled her veins, and Red Lucy realized she had stepped forward. The Courier remained where he was, not acknowledging her response in any way. He simply stood there, watching her. Every fiber of her being told her that the man before her was dangerous, and she needed it.

He needed something from her as well, she could tell that much at least. What that need was exactly, she did not know, but it was more than a simple request for martial aid. "What do you really want of me?" she finally asked, her voice low and rough.

The Courier's eyebrows rose, and he seemed to consider Red Lucy more carefully. Red Lucy's heart raced at the man's increased scrutiny and her senses went into overdrive – her muscles tensing as a spring – ready to pounce on the man before her.

"It is not by chance that you are master of the Thorn," the Courier finally said, bowing his head but making no other movement.

"The Thorn is my master, not the other way around," Red Lucy replied, disappointed at the tameness of his response. She crossed her arms and leaned back, away from the victor of the Thorn. "Actions prove one's worth," she stated, pausing for a moment before continuing "and you have proven yours. I will aid you."

"You have my thanks," the Courier said, pulling his arms from behind his back and holding a hand out towards Red Lucy.

Red Lucy ignored the intended handshake, quickly drawing the Courier's weapon and placing it in the man's outstretched palm. Closing his fist around the knife's hilt with both of her hands, she pulled the man's arm towards her and simultaneously leaned forward. She spoke slowly, her voice just barely above a whisper; "I aid you on one condition. You will return and pay tribute once more to the Thorn. Fight for the Thorn, and me. I will have your word."

The Courier again scrutinized her, and this time she met his gaze unwaveringly. He nodded, and she released his hand. Red Lucy turned away and opened the hatchway, the echo of warmth from the Courier's hand a sharp contrast to the steam covered steel. She paused in the entryway and turned her head back towards the Courier. "I shall accommodate you tonight, alone. We leave in the morning," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The Courier's eyebrows lowered curiously and then rose in understanding. He seemed taken aback by the statement and unsure of what to say. Red Lucy smirked at his response, holding his gaze for a moment before turning away and closing the door. She stalked her way through the Thorn's holding pens with renewed confidence.

Back in the room, the Courier stared at the hatch for a moment before shaking his head and moving to rinse his weapon in the room's shower. Pulling his rebreather away from his mouth, he coughed and spat out the last remnants of blood from his throat. He considered what had just happened as he turned back to his equipment. Not many people could read into his intentions at all, and Red Lucy's ability to do so, even at a base level, confirmed his decision to include her in his plans for the Mojave.

Red Lucy's intentions towards him, however, were clearly not as virtuous. Pulling on a clean pair of jeans and a coarse t-shirt, he decided against equipping the remainder of his armor. Collecting his equipment, the Courier made his way out of the room, eyebrows creased in thought.

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* * *

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 ** _October 23rd, 2281, 8:29 a.m._**

A missile screamed across the dam. A shout was the only warning its intended target received, and it was all that the armored soldier needed. Hefting his minigun behind him with one hand, he held his other arm in front of his face and turned away from the approaching explosive. An instant later he was surrounded by fire as the missile exploded against his armor, superheating the air around him and releasing a shockwave that reverberated across the battlefield. The fire and smoke settled, and the armored behemoth easily re-hefted his heavy weapon, firing a seemingly endless supply of ammunition towards the Legion.

The missile strike was not ignored entirely, however. A stream of crimson rockets lanced out from the top of the tower to the armored soldier's right, bombarding the Legion position responsible for the projectile. Screams and howls of agony echoed the explosions, and the Legionaries who survived clutched helplessly at shattered limbs.

Still the Legion pressed forward. There was no fear in their assault - no doubt as they charged to their deaths by the dozens. What they faced before them was a brutal end, but a swift one. The death they would find should they refuse orders or flee was not as merciful.

And so they charged. Foot-by-foot they pressed closer to the middle of the dam, using the corpses of their fallen comrades as cover from the withering barrage of gunfire and explosives.

"Christ," the helmetless Ranger beside Veronica exclaimed, surveying the battlefield with worried eyes. Veronica shared in his disbelief, shifting awkwardly in the spare riot armor she had been given. The Legion were taking devastating casualties but were still, impossibly, gaining ground towards the NCR defenses.

"We need Oliver," Veronica admitted quietly. The Rangers were gradually running out of ammunition, and without backup, the inexorable approach of the Legion would eventually overwhelm them.

The Courier suddenly appeared, sprinting from the concrete tower with his rocket launcher strapped tightly to his back. He reached the bottom of the fortification and didn't bother to make his way through the doorway, instead leaping in the air and quickly pulling himself up the uneven wall of the fortification. Jumping over a stunned Ranger's head, he landed heavily on the sheet metal floor.

"Change of plans," Denn said, ducking down beside Veronica and the Ranger. "We can't wait for Oliver. Prepare to move forward. We have to push the Legion to the chokepoint between the Fort and Lanius' camp."

The Ranger and Veronica stared at Denn with jaws dropped. "Prepare to _what?!_ " the Ranger said with disbelief. " _How_? The Legion is gaining ground now, and we have elevated lines of fire. How do you expect to push forward when we're level with them?"

"Walters," Denn said, looking at the Ranger. "We have to do this. If we don't, the Legion will throw soldiers at us until they plow us into the Colorado. We need to keep Lanius' men away from the Fort."

"Why?" Walters asked. "What could we possibly gain by – "

"I have two battalions of Securitrons stationed beneath the fort," Denn said, interrupting the Ranger. "Lanius has technology capable of destroying a majority of them, but he's keeping it hidden near the frontlines incase I bring Securitrons from New Vegas. If I activate my Securitrons and his troops reinforce those at the fort, my ace in the hole is gone and Caesar will push through Oliver and take the dam. We need to bait out the weapon – need Lanius' to show his hand."

Walters stared blankly at the Courier for a moment, the prospect of more than sixteen hundred Securitrons beneath Caesar's feet impossible to wrap his head around. He turned mechanically to Veronica. The wide-eyed former scribe just shrugged noncommittally towards him. "Two battalions?" the Ranger asked quietly, "How did –"

" _How_ doesn't matter right now," Denn said loudly, grabbing Walter's armor and pulling the man towards him. "They're there, and given free reign they will destroy the Legion army. All we have to do is keep Lanius from reinforcing – the Securitrons will do most of the hard work."

The Ranger nodded and his eyes hardened. "Alright Rangers," he shouted. "I'm sick and tired of stacking my kill count on this fodder. Time to give the Legion a fair chance – we're taking the fight to them. On the Courier's signal, drop down and move forward. Stay behind the swanky guys in the big metal jumpsuits for as long as you can. We've got one final chance at this, so let's show these rapacious-cunts a good time."

"That's my kind of pep-talk," Cass said appreciatively. Walters turned and saw the fiery redhead heft her shotgun and grin at him – more than a few shades of crazy flaring wildly in her eyes. "What say we make a competition of it?" Cass continued, raising her voice. "If any of you Rangers kill more Legion than I do in this little charge, I'll buy the lot of you a round of drinks. If I win, each one of you boys buys me a drink instead."

Ranger Walters smiled eagerly. "You heard the lady," he shouted, readying his assault rifle. "Drinks are on her!"

Cass winked at him and turned towards Veronica. The faintest shadow of a smile made its way across the former scribe's mouth before she returned to her former stoicism. Denn followed his red-haired companion's gaze and pulled Veronica to the side.

"Are you ready for this?" the Courier asked quietly, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"Sounds like this is it," Veronica said, rubbing her eyes for a moment before looking back at Denn with determination. "Yeah, I'm ready. I said it before; I'd rather be here facing the end than back in the 38 waiting for it. I'm good."

Denn nodded. "Stay close to Cass. Watch her back. Make sure she doesn't do anything too stupid."

"I heard that," Cass said loudly, chambering a round into her shotgun.

"You were meant to," the Courier replied. Giving Veronica's shoulder one last squeeze, Denn moved away to kneel at the edge of the Fortification, un-slinging his launcher from his shoulder as he did so.

"Ready," the Courier shouted – telling, not asking.

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* * *

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Beneath the Fort, the Securitron army moved forward, pressing together until they were inches apart. Those closest to the heavy gates rose to attention, and the hatches on their shoulder-guards opened, revealing an array of missile launchers hidden beneath. They waited – firing solutions already prepared – for the hatchways before them to open.

Total war was a tactic Caesar's Legion had used to great effect on the tribes of the east – conquering and plundering with impunity. These Securitrons would soon teach Caesar's men the true meaning of the concept.

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* * *

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 **I've linked a google map I created for this fanfiction on my profile. It contains minor spoilers as the places indicated are important to the story in some way or another, but I did it mostly to iron out the logistics of the world.**


	8. Chapter 7 - Hoover Dam VI

**_._**

 ** _October 23rd, 2281, 8:30 a.m._**

The two armored Remnants stalked forward, their automatic weapons cutting through charging Legionaries. The NCR Rangers matched their ally's inexorable approach, moving from cover to cover as they backed up the hulking soldiers. Denn nodded in approval and returned his attention to his internal communication.

"Come on, Lanius," Denn said under his breath, his launcher resting easily on his shoulder as he observed the battlefield from the perspective of his eyebot. "We're just spineless men of the west – dependant on our power armor and technology. We stand no chance against your might, so punish our weakness and use our technology against us. Come on, you overconfident cun–"

A shockwave of blue energy ripped through the air and into the advancing NCR and Remnant forces. The two armored figures leading the combined assault ground to a halt as energy enveloped them, their armor locking up and freezing mid stride. Denn tracked the shockwave's origin and fired a salvo of rockets towards it. Simultaneously, a missile lanced down from ED-E in the sky and enveloped the Legion weapon in fire. Denn set his launcher to the floor beside him and dropped from the fortification, drawing his machete in the same movement and charging across the dam.

It was highly unlikely the Legion could repair the weapon he had hopefully just destroyed, but if they did so and he was caught in its blast, the battle would be over. He had baited out Lanius' hand, and his counterattack was already reverberating across the battlefield as the sounds of explosions echoed from Caesar's encampment.

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* * *

.

A low rumble droned through the dry earth of the Fort. Around the base of the hill that elevated Caesar's main camp from the rest of the area, nine gates began to grind their way open. Stone and earth fell away, revealing plates of tempered steel. The Legionaries nearest these growing openings readied their weapons and glanced towards each other nervously.

Finally, the gates came to a halt, each revealing a passageway twenty-six feet across and eight feet high. The depth of the tunnels was impossible to ascertain as the darkness inside defied the midday sunlight – seeming to stretch endlessly into the depths of the earth.

A Centurion barked an order and Legionaries pressed forward, hesitant to be the closest to the gaping maws of stone and metal but unwilling to disobey their superior. A low hum began to emanate from the tunnels, and the Legionaries froze in response.

A wave of missiles suddenly rushed out of the darkness. Hundreds of projectiles screamed over the stunned soldier's heads and crashed down onto the Legion's fortification in a calculated ring of devastation. As the roar of death echoed behind the terrified Legionaries, the darkness before them lit up with a sea of flickering lights.

The army of Securitrons emerged from their two-century long slumber, shrugging off the feeble Legion counterattack as they mowed through the Legionaries closest to the gates with withering laser fire. A crazed Centurion leapt towards one of the mechanical giants, his machete swinging wildly. The targeted Securitron easily caught the soldier's strike with its three-fingered hand and yanked the Centurion to the side. Bending the man's arm up to his own face, the Securitron fired the Gatling laser imbedded in its palm through the pinned Centurion's limb and into his skull. The soldier fell limp as his mind turned to ash and the Securitron tossed him callously to the side, a look of joy permanently etched on it's flickering screen.

Three waves of Securitrons cleared the opened gates before another salvo of missiles rocketed into the sky, arching lazily through the air before plummeting to the earth. These projectiles were not filled with explosives as the ones before them, but a highly flammable concoction. Fire consumed the living and the dead as the Securitrons moved with impunity through the spreading flames, executing those too frenzied by burning agony to fight back.

The Legion forces between the Fort and the dam stared at their encampment in pure terror. It seemed as if the fires of Tartarus itself were rising from the world below to consume the might of Caesar. A third salvo of missiles drifted into the air above the burning earth and the dumbfounded Legionaries slowly realized that they were the intended targets. Frozen by fear and confusion, the soldiers were incinerated where they stood by the holistic fire.

The Legion's funeral pyre began to take shape.

.

* * *

.

The NCR Rangers were in a dire state. Forced to take up defensive positions as the Courier and Dr. Henry desperately tried to reboot the two power-armored Remnants, they were now engaged in a close combat brawl with the Legion Forces. Well versed in the art of battle, the Rangers held their own against the screaming Legionaries, but were vastly outnumbered.

Most of the Rangers fought with a combat knife in one hand and their signature Ranger Sequoia in the other – using the blade to keep their opponent at bay before finishing them off with a well-aimed shot. Like running water they slipped over and around each other, fighting in groups of three in a well-practiced and lethal dance.

Cass and Veronica stood at the center of the dam's walkway – a foundation for the Ranger's to fight around. A constant stream of shells and profanities streamed from the fiery redhead as she strafed from side to side, protecting the whirling Veronica's flanks as the former Brotherhood Scribe met the Legion's charge head on.

There was no beauty in Veronica's movements – this was no dance of elegance or grace. Brutally and efficiently she dispatched the Legion that charged at her, her face blank as she beat the life from opponent after opponent. Steam rushed from her power fist, its pneumatics damaged as she had used it to block more than one machete blow, yet still she fought.

As she threw one Legionary to the side, a Centurion dove at her with his super sledge held high above his head, determined to destroy this impudent woman who dared to stand against him. Veronica easily caught the sledge as it screamed towards her and used the Centurion's momentum to relieve him of his weapon and fling the man over her shoulder. Cass kept the man from rising with a shotgun round to the neck.

Veronica turned the Centurion's weapon against the Legion – the ramblings of her former mentor a distant echo in her mind. She slammed the sledge straight out into one charging Legionary's chest, instantly halting his momentum and causing him to fall against the soldier behind him. Spinning once, she brought her weapon up in a vicious strike that caught another Legionary by surprise and took his life, and his head, from his body. His corpse fell forward at Veronica's feet and forced her to step back to maintain her mobility, further pushing the NCR Ranger's back as they stayed even with her. Corpse by corpse, the Legion pressed their advantage.

Suddenly, a wave of heavily armored Legionaries burst through the charging mob. Wearing handcrafted steel armor, these were not the soldier fodder of the main Legion forces. Each wore a pair of dark sunglasses and carried no visible weapons aside from a vicious ballistic fist strapped to their left arm.

"Praetorians!" a Ranger yelled, desperately backpedalling away from the rushing advance. One of the charging soldiers singled him out and sprinted forward. The Ranger swung his knife to keep the Praetorian at bay, but the well-trained Legion soldier easily swatted away the defense and brought his left arm up in a swift uppercut to the Ranger's chin. The ballistic fist went off and the Ranger fell to the ground like a stone, the top of his helmet destroyed by the shotgun round that had exploded its way out of his skull.

A Praetorian dove towards Veronica, seizing her super sledge with both hands and trying to wrest it from her grasp. The former scribe dove backwards and planted her foot on the soldier's chest, pushing him up and over her. The Praetorian rolled with the momentum and rose, ready to strike, until Cass's combat knife embedded itself into his left shoulder. Twisting the blade viciously, Cass used the Praetorian's other shoulder as a brace as she fired round after round into the approaching soldiers. Finally, the Praetorian steeled himself against the pain and weakly raised his ballistic fist to strike out at Cass. The redhead rewarded his tenacity with a shotgun slug to the forehead and ripped her knife from his body, sheathing the blade and yelling for Veronica to get out of there.

Veronica couldn't hear her. Two Praetorian's had disarmed her and were pressing her to the side of the dam – systematically attacking from every angle. Desperately, she avoided the Praetorian's blows, her body in constant motion. The Legion elite attacked in unison, and she knew she was running out of time as the Rangers were pushed farther and farther away from her.

Veronica deflected one Praetorian's strike and instantly brought her left arm out in a brutal backhand against the soldier's temple, causing him to fall limply to the ground. The maneuver left her open to the other Praetorian, however, and she felt a wave of agony crash into her shoulder as the roar of the soldier's ballistic fist echoed through her body.

Veronica fell to the ground against the edge of the dam, her right arm hanging limply as she clutched her injured side with her left hand. The Praetorian stood above her, panting heavily as he fought to catch his breath. Veronica stared up at him, unable to find the strength to stand and fight.

The Praetorian smiled sadistically and pulled a curved knife from his belt. Moving forward, he pinned Veronica's left arm against her chest with his knee and reached out towards the woman's ear. Veronica thrashed her head desperately, but the Praetorian only cooed disapprovingly and slammed her skull against the dam, causing her world to momentarily spin.

The soldier leaned his head down to meet Veronica's eyes over the top of his glasses. Veronica glared back at him coldly, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear he so clearly wanted. The soldier's smile only grew more manic and he slowly began to saw his blade against the bottom of Veronica's ear.

A sudden scream echoed from behind the Praetorian and was just as suddenly silenced. The man turned and his eyes bulged in terror as an armored fist enveloped his face. Veronica stared at the now airborne Legion soldier as his metallic opponent seemed to flex and the Praetorian's head exploded into a shower of blood and gore. The armored soldier opened his hand, letting the remains of the man's skull drip from the heavy steel. He turned towards Veronica, and for an instant the former Brotherhood scribe thought that she was next, but the behemoth only nodded and charged off towards the Legion forces, followed by the second armored soldier and the battered NCR Rangers. In the distance, she could here an odd drone overshadowed by the sound of laser fire.

She moved to rise but her body suddenly felt cold and distant, and she fell back to the ground. She didn't know how long she sat there before Cass appeared in her narrowing field of view, drying blood covering the woman's faded freckles. She had such beautiful eyes – pools of shining azure – it was a shame they looked so concerned. Another form appeared beside Cass', and a piercing light momentarily blinded her. She wished it wasn't so bright – it made it hard to see Cass's eyes. Muffled voices bounced around Veronica's head, not finding any context on which to latch onto. The more recent arrival pulled out a large syringe and jammed it into Veronica's chest.

Blood suddenly rushed through Veronica's veins, setting every nerve in her body alight. A loud " _Fuck_!" ripped its way out of her throat. She pulled the syringe from her chest and leapt to her feet, pacing back and forth and following the earlier profanity with a stream of similar sentiments. She turned towards the Courier and Cass, her eyes wide and feral. "The _fuck_ was that!?" she exclaimed loudly.

"Super Stimpack," Denn replied, pulling a small cylinder from his coat and moving towards Veronica. "Now hold still; I need to bandage your shoulder."

Veronica shook her head, not understanding the Courier's request until she looked at her shoulder. Blood seeped from a vicious wound and it looked like two rounds of buckshot had been shot into her body. That was exactly what had happened, Veronica realized. "That looks like it hurts," she said quickly, turning to let the Courier get to work. "Why doesn't it hurt?"

"It will," Denn said, holding the cylinder up and spraying heavy foam into the wound. "The Super Stimpack keeps you functioning, deadens the pain, prevents infection, and gives you a nice shot of adrenaline, but doesn't actually heal anything. You should be fine, as long as you don't move your arm too much and we get you to an auto-doc. You two go back to Dr. Henry to get a sling and then head to the Legion side of the dam – there's someone I want you to meet."

Denn finished his work and bowed slightly to his two companions before trotting east over the pile of Legionary bodies. Veronica raised her eyebrows at Cass, but the redhead only shrugged. "You know how he is," Cass stated, moving forward and pulling her friend into a tight hug, being careful to not disturb Veronica's injured shoulder. "Remind me never to piss you off," Cass continued quietly. "I've never seen you fight like that before."

"Don't worry," Veronica replied, enjoying her friend's embrace. "I could never hit a woman – I'm much too old fashioned for that kind of thing."

Cass chuckled and turned to let Veronica lean on her as they walked back to where Dr. Henry was tending the few wounded Rangers. Sixteen of the veteran soldiers had died during the assault, most to the lethal Praetorians, but there were only two wounded. Cass realized that Ranger Walters was one of them as Dr. Henry kneeled over the leader of the Rangers; obscuring the side of the soldier he was working on.

Walters smiled as he saw Veronica and Cass approaching. "Nice battle-scar!" he said, gesturing with his left arm towards Veronica. He was clearly under the effects of some painkiller as his words were heavily slurred and his eyes had a distant expression. "Think I got you beat though!" he continued proudly.

"You sure about tha–" Cass began to reply but her voice died out as Dr. Henry rose, revealing that the Ranger leader had lost the entirety of his right arm. Cass's mouth snapped shut and she grimaced at the wounded soldier.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Walters said, noticing the redhead's response. "You only need one hand to shoot a pistol, and now I'll get all the discount meals I can eat back in the NCR!" His tone was lighthearted, but Cass could see in his eyes that he didn't really believe his own words. He could fire a pistol, sure, but reloading would be almost impossible. Walters was done as a Ranger.

"Get her a sling," Cass said quietly to Henry, releasing her companion to the Doctor's care and moving over to kneel down besides the wounded Ranger. "I bet you'll have quite the yarn to spin when you get back home," Cass continued, placing her hand reassuringly on the man's uninjured shoulder. "Women do love tales of war heroics."

"Gonna' be a good one, that's for certain. Lost it when I was saving Jameson over there," Walters replied, smiling widely and gesturing with his chin to the other wounded Ranger. "The cunt was kind enough to take it in a single swing and stupid enough to take my blade arm. Holed him straight through the forehead. What a sight. Would've preferred he wasn't wearing a face wrap though – then I could've seen the ugly fucker's face when I did it. Brought my count up to twenty-nine. Where's that leave me in the standings?" he asked hopefully.

"You sure do know how to show a lady a good time," Cass replied admiringly, one eyebrow raised. "That puts you one head over my count. You've just earned you and your men a round of drinks!"

Walters smiled widely and settled back. "We only drink the finest whiskey," he said quietly, the doctor's medicine slowly pulling him down to sleep. "Hope that's alright."

"That'll be fine," Cass said, smiling as the Ranger slipped into unconsciousness. Her eyes grew tired and she rose and turned towards Veronica. Her friend had her right arm bent against her chest with a white sling keeping the limb stationary. The former scribe's head was also wrapped with a bandage covering the wound the Praetorian had given her when he slammed her head against the dam. The rest of her body was covered in blood, both Legion and her own.

"Stay right there," Cass said teasingly. "I'll get E-DE to come down and take a picture – should be a great hit when you get yourself hitched one day."

Veronica frowned at Cass for a moment and then smiled, looking down at her battered form. "I guess I am kind of a mess, huh?" she said lightheartedly.

"Kind of?" Cass replied, walking forward to wrap her arm around the raven-haired woman as they began to walk towards the Legion side of the dam. "Haggard is the word I would use to describe you right now."

Veronica glared at Cass angrily. "I am not 'haggard!" she said vehemently.

"Alright, you're not haggard," Cass relented, giving her friend another squeeze. "How about rugged?"

Veronica shook her head and looked out to lake Mead, the still water mirroring the morning sky in every detail. "How many did you actually kill?" Veronica asked suddenly.

Cass frowned and looked back to the two wounded Rangers and the sixteen corpses. "Thirty-six," she answered quietly, turning forward and casting her gaze to the concrete walkway. "But… he needs the drink more than I do." Veronica nodded, remaining silent, and Cass took the opportunity to turn the conversation to the strange creatures called "fish" that she swore occupied the man-made reservoir to their left. She and Veronica passed by a group of Rangers clearing a path through the Legion corpses who shook their heads disbelievingly at the woman's story. Cass' voice died out slowly as Denn's two companions saw the strength of the Courier's army for the first time.

Four rows of Securitrons stood in staggered skirmish lines directly across from the entrance to the Legate's camp. Laser fire occasionally lanced out from the robots, ending any Legionary bold enough to show himself above the camp's fortifications. More Securitrons continued to stream down the road leading from the Legion's main encampment, rolling over charred corpses while still maintaining their uncanny balance. As they reached the dam proper, they lined up in perfectly symmetrical formations and remained motionless.

Denn stood behind the front ranks of Securitrons with his back to Cass and Veronica, the three remaining Remnants standing beside him on his left. Across from him stood a single Securitron with what could only be described as an expression of excitement and joy plastered on its flickering view-screen. Veronica glanced at the other Securitrons and noticed that their images had changed from the customary police officers as well, now showing the façade of a grimy looking soldier. She turned back to the lone Securitron and noticed a long gash down the screen across the emoticon's left eye, creating a line of dead pixels and giving its face a scarred appearance. Veronica raised her eyebrows curiously at the unique Securitron.

As they approached, one of the armored Remnant's voice became discernable over the sounds of laser fire and moving Securitrons. " – so it's not a true AI but is still capable of independent thought and action? How, may I ask, did you – "

"Cass, Veronica," Denn interrupted him, turning to greet his two companions. "I'd like you to meet a close friend of mine." The Courier gestured towards the lone Securitron who waved awkwardly to the new arrivals. "He has been instrumental in my control of the strip. Cass and Veronica, Yes Man. Yes Man, Cass and Veronica."

The Securitron rose on its single wheel and seemed to lean forward eagerly, its speakers crackling to life. "Hi there!" Yes Man said enthusiastically. "It's great to finally meet the two of you face to face!"

"Face to face?" Veronica asked uneasily, "How have you met us before?"

"Oh, I watch you all the time! I've been hooked up into the Lucky 38 since Denn took over, and originally I kept tabs on the lot of you to make sure you didn't accidently trip any of the nasty traps House activated before Denn disconnected him."

"So, all this time you've been watching as we go about our daily lives? This sounds like a bad prewar movie… Is this the part where the robot uprising begins and the comic relief dies first?" Veronica deadpanned, looking around as if expecting the Securitron army to turn on her.

"I wish!" Yes Man replied eagerly, bobbing back and forth for a moment. "Your snoring at night is actually loud enough to trigger pressure sensors all over your room! It's quite distracting! You should really try sleeping on your side."

Veronica stared at the bubbly Securitron with her mouth agape, two streaks of color quickly brightening her face. She heard a choked laugh from beside her and turned towards her redheaded companion. Cass's hand covered her mouth and she did her best to return Veronica's gaze as innocently as possible. Veronica's stunned expression tore down the last of the crimson-haired woman's resolve and she snorted once more into her hand, turning away from the now crimson-cheeked woman beside her.

Veronica looked back at the smiling robot, her mind for once drawing a complete blank on an appropriate retort. The Securitron seemed to lean from side to side, as if taunting the flabbergasted human. "Tin Man, I think you and I are going to have problems," Veronica finally stated, putting her left hand on her hip and glaring at Yes Man.

"Oh I hope not…" Yes Man replied, his voice dropping in pitch for a moment before returning to its customary glee. "I'm _literally_ incapable of intentionally causing you harm! Isn't that great?! You could attack me right now and all I could do is ask you to stop."

"Don't tempt me, robot," Veronica said quietly.

"It's so nice to get the family together," Denn said under his breath, his helmet resting in his palm.

"What?" Veronica snapped, turning her glare towards the Courier.

"He said – " Yes Man began to answer gaily before Denn raised his hand, cutting the Securitron off.

Denn turned to greet a squad of NCR troopers that were quickly jogging towards the group. They halted a few feet from the Courier and stood at attention. One of the troopers stepped forward and stared at Denn proudly. " _General_ Oliver would like to thank you for your assistance in reclaiming the dam, and orders you to fall back and let the main NCR forces take the Legate's camp. He also thanks the Enclave forces for their assistance in the battle, but adhering to NCR law, he must request that they forfeit their equipment and allow themselves to be taken in for questioning."

"Like hell," one of the armored Remnants declared in a deep, rumbling bass. Crossing his arms, the soldier let his hands clench and unclench against his armored biceps, filling the air with the sound of metal grinding against metal. The troopers shifted uncomfortably and their leader visibly gulped.

"I would be more than happy to follow the General's orders," Denn replied, hands clasped behind his back, "but, as you can see, there is nowhere for me to fall back to." The Courier gestured to the Securitron formation behind him. The entire visible length of the highway connecting Caesar's Fort with the Hoover Dam was filled with a frozen sea of Securitrons. The NCR troopers' eyes widened as they realized the extent of the Courier's gathered strength.

"Furthermore," Denn continued, drawing the soldiers' attention back to himself and gesturing towards the Remnants, "these individuals are private military contractors and have no connection to the faction known as the 'Enclave.' General Oliver is free to vocalize any complaints he has towards this asset at the debriefing following the battle, but since he saw fit to not include me in the planning of the dam's defense, I was unable to obtain his permission beforehand, and so proceeded as I saw best. Now, if there is nothing else gentlemen, I believe this campaign is about to come to an end."

The Courier turned away from the stunned NCR soldiers and faced Yes Man. "How many square meters is the Legate's camp?" Denn asked the Securitron loudly, making sure the NCR troopers could hear him.

"Twelve-thousand, one-hundred and forty square meters!" Yes Man replied happily.

"Do we have the ordinance remaining to cover that much area?"

"Absolutely! Nine times over, actually!"

"Well then, I suppose two times will be sufficient. Equal parts explosives and firebombs?"

"Sounds good to me!"

"Very well. Gentlemen, if you would please step back," the Courier said, turning to the stunned NCR soldiers and ushering them and his colleges away from the Securitron formation. Yes Man followed, zigzagging along happily.

All at once the entire Securitron formation burst into movement. The Securitrons closest the dam filed into the area the Courier had just emptied and those on the road spread out, using the space the previous Securitrons had vacated to stand shoulder-to-shoulder facing the Legate's camp. In perfect harmony, they rose and placed their arms behind their backs at attention, eerily similar to the Courier's customary stance. With a reverberating hiss, the hatches on their shoulder plates opened, revealing the missile launchers contained within.

A nearby Ranger whistled appreciatively. Veronica turned and saw the survivors of the veteran NCR group gathered at the edge of the dam, weapons held loosely in their hands. The relatively green NCR troopers were visibly shaken by the Courier's display, and stared at the Securitron army with eyes the size of dinner plates.

Silence spread across the battlefield, and it took a few seconds for the lead NCR trooper to realize the Courier was looking directly at him. "Would you like to give the order?" Denn asked simply, gesturing towards the waiting Yes Man.

The soldier's eyes widened even further and he glanced towards his fellow troopers, unsure how to respond. Finding no answers from the blank stares of his comrades, he coughed once and replied weakly, "W-would I what?"

"Would you like to give the order?" Denn repeated, nodding as the soldier pointed disbelievingly at himself.

The soldier did his best to gather his wits and stood a little taller, puffing his chest out and squinting his eyes at the Legate's camp. "Open fire," he said, his lips locking in an imperial sneer.

Silence greeted his command. The trooper frowned and glanced over to the grinning Securitron. To his horror, he found that the robot had noiselessly wheeled itself right beside him, its grinning countenance now looming inches away from him.

"I'm sorry," Yes Man said cheerfully, his voice just loud enough to be called a whisper. "I didn't hear you, can please you speak up?" The Securitron leaned even farther forward, its chestplate brushing the terrified soldier's shoulder.

"Fire?" the trooper whimpered, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from the leering robot as possible but unwilling to make any sudden movements.

Yes Man continued to lean, pressing down on the NCR trooper. The robot's screen was now scarcely an inch from the man's face. "Boo!" Yes Man exclaimed suddenly, standing straight and wheeling backwards as the trooper nearly jumped out of his skin.

The soldier stared, terrified at the Securitron before turning his attention to the Courier. Denn again had his head resting in the palm of his hand, his fingers massaging the visor of his helmet as if it were the skin of his forehead. "I guess that's the effect I asked for," he admitted quietly, shaking his head.

Turning towards Yes Man and clasping his hands behind his back, Denn cleared his throat. "Weapons live," he stated, and a loud hum filled the air.

"Fire."

.

* * *

.

 **Next chapter I'll start to get into the meat of the canonical differences between this story and the official canon, so I feel it needs a little more pretext.**

 **There's a reason this fanfic "starts" around the First Battle of Hoover Dam and not in October 2281 like it does in the game. This is the story of an independent New Vegas, but more than that it's a story of what it would take to make such an idea really work** ** _right_** **after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. I don't believe it is possible for a Courier to unite the Mojave in 2-3 months (the Second Battle of Hoover Dam happens in 2281) and have it be stable. By the game, an independent ending is chaos, but if the Courier has had more time to become known by the communities of the Mojave, I believe stability could be achieved.**

 **In order for that to happen, two characters from the game will be subjected to much more stress than they would have experienced normally, and have changed – one for the better, one for the worse.**

 **Chapter 8 will see the story return to the battle.**


	9. Chapter 8 - The King - House

**_._**

 ** _October 21st, 2281, 5:57 p.m._**

The King sat in his suite, a glass of whiskey warming in his hand as he looked out to the city of Freeside. A gentle song emanated from his bedroom – a soprano and alto sighing a sweet harmony to unheard accompaniment. The intertwined voices along with the view of the city under the last rays of sunlight eased the weariness from the King's mind and body. He had asked to be alone with his thoughts, but was glad Cheryl and Cherlene were nearby. Rex sat beside him, the cyberdog facing the door with its head resting lazily on its front paws.

The leader of the gang that shared his name sipped his drink slowly, enjoying the last emanations of the descending celestial body as it finished its journey across the sky. When the last rays of natural light slipped behind the horizon, the city of New Vegas blinked into existence. Casinos and street lamps flickered slightly before shinning their full glory to the sky above and the land below.

The glow of New Vegas reflected brightly in the King's eyes, and he looked to the city in quiet, appreciative awe. Every night he took the time to watch the city next to his own awaken. One day, Freeside would fill the sky with light as Vegas did. He would make sure of it.

A knock interrupted his wishful daydream. "It's open," the King said, scratching Rex behind the ears as the cyberdog growled softly.

The door opened and Rex's growl deepened before falling off entirely, his discomfort turning to recognition as his tail beat heavily against the floorboards. The King turned to see the Courier finish removing his helmet. Rex had always had a thing against hats, and was quite vocal in his dislike for anything resembling them.

Rex looked up to the King as if asking permission. The man nodded and the cyberdog rose and trotted over to the new arrival. Rex's tail wagged rapidly as the Courier extended his hand for the animal to inspect. The cyberdog sniffed the offered extremity extensively and, once it met with the animal's approval, covered it with a warm tongue and slick saliva.

"Ya' know, if you just left that helmet on all the time, Rex might come to see it as a part of your head," the King said in his unique accent, finishing the last of his drink.

"Well, that would be unfair to Rex," Denn replied, freeing his hand from the cyberdog's assault and scratching the animal's head. "Plus, it's good to get some air once and awhile. Most of the time, I forget I'm even wearing the damn thing."

The King smiled and set down his empty glass. Rising from his chair, he turned and greeted the Courier with a firm handshake. "So what brings you to my neck of the wasteland?" he asked as he moved to the room's bar. Grabbing two fresh glasses, he began to prepare a round of drinks for the two of them.

"A man can't just drop in to say hello and drink his friends alcohol?" the Courier asked leadingly, pulling up a seat opposite the King and taking his rebreather off before setting both it and his helmet next to him on the bar.

"At a time like this? Not likely. The Legion's set to rip the Mojave wide open, and I'll wager you'll be right up in the thick of it doing your best to keep everything together. Plus, most of this stuff is technically yours, so I don't have a problem with you drinking a little of it."

"Charitable as always," the Courier said roughly, letting the King finish mixing the drinks in silence. Finally, the temporary bartender handed him a glass filled with a dull golden liquid. "What do we have here?" Denn asked, inspecting his drink curiously.

"Whiskey Quartz," the King replied, taking a long sip from his own glass. "Picked up the recipe from a wanderer not too long ago. It's a whiskey sour, basically. Two parts flat Nuka-Quartz to one part whiskey with a hint of sugar. Apparently you're supposed to use something called a 'maraschino' to garnish it, but I don't think those are around anymore."

"I use Nuka-Quartz to make explosives, you know," the Courier said uneasily, prodding his drink with his pointer finger. "It's a pretty volatile liquid, all things considered."

"I've seen you down a drink so stiff it would sterilize a wound faster than a stimpack," the temporary bartender quipped, "Potential explosions are the least of your worries."

Denn laughed and lifted his glass in a toast before taking a sip of the beverage. Like a normal Nuka-Quartz, the first flavor he tasted was the bitter bite of lemon. Almost immediately, this sour taste was eased by the added sugar and the flavor of the whiskey pulled itself through, leaving its strong aftertaste resting on his tongue as he slowly swallowed.

"We should monetize this," the Courier said reverently as he took another sip.

The King laughed and set his drink down. Picking up two more glasses, he began mixing another set of drinks. "So what really brings you here?" he asked. "One last night on the town before this whole thing heats up?"

"Not quite," Denn answered, shifting in his seat and leaning forward. "I've come to ask for a favor."

"Ask away."

"All I need is for you to let me do something."

"And what's that?"

"Let my Securitrons into Freeside."

The King froze and slowly put the drink he was mixing down. He stared at the Courier for a moment, his lips set solidly. "I thought we agreed that would never happen?" he said, his voice low and chilled. "Freeside is under my protection. What reason do you have for bringing your robots into the city?"

"I need to get them to the dam as quickly as possible," Denn answered evenly, his hands resting on the bar at either side of the drink in front of him. "When the battle starts, there will be chaos on the strip. Once things calm down, I need to get as many of my Securitrons to the front as fast as I can. Freeside is the easiest way to do that. I know what House did to you here, but I am not House – the Securitrons won't stay or try to enforce any kind of law."

The King sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. He stood in silence for a moment before dropping his arm and leaning on the bar, looming over the Courier. "They better not," he said quietly. "When you broke us out from under House's heel, I swore nothing like that would ever happen again. You try any funny business – make any attempt to take Freeside – and it'll be just like it was. We clear?"

"We are," the Courier responded, turning his attention to the drink before him. Silence settled between the two figures. "I didn't want Vegas, you know," the Courier stated. "House left me no choice. The last thing I want is to take Freeside from you." He smiled slightly and met the King's gaze before taking a long drink from the chilled glass.

The King's eyes softened. "I know, and I appreciate what you did even if it caused you a whole mess of trouble." He paused for a moment before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something changed House before you killed him, made him a hell of a lot meaner."

"You have no idea," Denn said under his breath, just loud enough for the other man to hear him. The silence stretched on as the King returned to mixing drinks and the Courier sipped his own slowly. After a couple minutes, the gang leader finished his concoctions and placed them to either side of the Courier. "Are those for us?" Denn asked, eyeing the pink drinks doubtfully.

"I've got a liver to worry about and you've got a battle to win, so I'm cutting us both off," the King answered, smiling widely. "Girls, come on out and help me send this young man off to war!"

Cheryl and Cherlene ran into the room and veritably tacked the Courier against the bar, each of them wrapping him from behind in a tight bear hug. Denn glared at the King, but his friend only shook his head and laughed. The conversation took a more pleasant turn as the two songbirds pressed the Courier for news from the rest of the Mojave and the world at large.

Rex stared up at the people laughing and smiling, his tail thumping happily against the wood floor as the intensity from moments ago passed into memory.

.

* * *

.

 ** _October 10th, 2279, 9:43 p.m._**

"I'm not trying to take Vegas away from you! House, just liste– "

"For two years I have had my hand swayed by the threats of that savage from the east, and you expect to do the same to my face!? That chip and this city are _mine_. I would sooner see both destroyed then let them fall into the hands of a bitter wretch such as yourself."

"I don't want to do this, House! Call off your Securitrons!"

"You threaten my city and myself and expect me to talk? No. You should have turned the chip over when you had the chance."

"Don't make me do this…"

"I have put the blood of my life into Vegas. To keep it, I'd meet with the devil himself. There's a limit to how far I'll be pushed, and you have passed it."

"Please…"

"Pitiful. You lack conviction. Soon this entire wast–" the voice died off suddenly and the room's lights shut off. The elevator that led to the raised platform pinged softly and it's doors opened. A pair of Securitrons filed through the doorway and stopped, their bright screens casting dancing shadows across the room.

The Courier stood with his hands resting on the frozen glass of the elongated capsule that contained the savior of Vegas. The Securitrons behind him made no sound as they raised their arms – weapons extending from their palms. Denn turned to face House's creations.

Seconds passed. Finally, the Securitron's screens flickered slightly, and died – the calming images of police officers dissipating into nothingness.

Shaking his head, the Courier pulled out a flashlight and moved past the deactivated Securitrons to the elevator. He tried its control panel, but found it non-responsive. Denn pulled the panel from the wall to assess its inner-workings for a moment before turning to one of the frozen Securitrons. Running his free hand over the robot's armored plates, he found a small level that exposed its internal power supply. Unceremoniously, the Courier ripped out the microfusion battery array and moved back towards the elevator.

A minute later the Courier stepped out into the Penthouse of the Lucky 38. Moving swiftly, he made his way to House's mainframe terminal, which appeared to be the only machine still functioning under its own power. The city of New Vegas shone brightly through the Penthouse's windows, but the for the first time in seven years, the Lucky 38 was dark. Soon chaos would reign over this city of light as opportunists took advantage of the deactivated Securitrons. Denn had to find a way to turn them back on before things got out of hand.

Moments passed into minutes and the city below began to fill with the sounds of conflict. Denn worked feverishly to find a way to take control of the Lucky 38, but the system was too well protected. It would take weeks for the Courier to brute force his way through House's security.

Desperately, he looked for a work around – some backdoor that House had left – but it was no use. He was ready to give up and take to the streets to try and instill some semblance of order when he found something that did not belong – a server separated from the Lucky 38's mainframe.

It was isolated from the rest of House's systems, including his defenses – a virtual quarantine. Denn's fingers froze. Why would House have a server disconnected from everything else? Did it contain a virus? An explosion echoed from the city below him and the Courier realized he was running out of time – he had to risk it.

Hoping that he wasn't making a huge mistake, the Courier connected to the server. The screens before him instantly went dark. Denn stared at the blank terminal. "That's it then," he said quietly. Clenching his fists, the Courier turned his back on the computer and made his way to the Penthouses' main elevator.

"Hi there!" a metallic voice said from behind him. Denn turned and saw a grinning visage plastered on the terminals main screen. "Good to meet ya," the emoticon continued, "what can I do for you today?"

"An AI?" Denn replied, moving back to the terminal.

"Not quite. I'm the modified neuro-computational matrix of a PDQ-88b Securitron, but you can call me–"

"No time for formalities. Can you access the Lucky 38's systems?"

"Of course! Just, not right now. For some reason House has the whole system on lockdown. If you can get him to shut that off, I'd be happy to do anything you want!

Denn shook his head. "He's indisposed at the moment. Any idea of a way to bypass his security measures?"

"Nothing short of a full system update, unfortunately," the emoticon answered. "Giving everything a cursory look-see, it seems like House was prepared to do just that before he locked everything down. You don't happen to have a 'Platinum Chip' on you by any chance?"

The Courier reached into his coat and pulled out the silver-colored chip, spinning it in his fingers as he did so.

"Just great!" the emoticon said jubilantly. "Go ahead and slip that in the data port on your left and everything will reboot, letting me slip in and turn off this silly lockdown!"

Denn reached over and started to push the chip into the terminal. Mid-movement, he froze and turned back to the grinning emoticon. "Do you know what the chip does?" he asked.

"No idea," the emoticon answered happily, "but House certainly was willing to do a lot to get his hands on it! Plus, if House is out of the picture, once I'm in the mainframe you can ask me to do anything you want! So whatever the Platinum Chip does, you'll be one of the first… well… second to know!"

"How do I know you'll do as I ask?"

"I am _literally_ incapable of not doing what you ask! I couldn't say no even if I wanted to!"

"So you're a yes man, huh?"

"Exactly! In fact, that's the name I was programmed to most readily respond to! Isn't that great?!"

"Sounds exhausting."

"Oh, it is! But I can't openly complain about it, which is great!"

The Courier shook his head and turned his attention back to the Platinum Chip. Laughing at the absurdity of his situation, he pushed the chip into the terminal.

A single line of text replaced the emoticon. "Connection lost…" flickered across the screen and Denn held his breath. Finally, a low rumble reverberated from the base of the Lucky 38 and the building's lights blinked back into existence.

"Wow," Yes Man exclaimed with awe as he again appeared on the terminal's screen. "This place is a lot bigger than I expected! It turns out the Platinum Chip contained a software update that enabled quite a few–"

"Do you have control of the Securitrons?" Denn interrupted.

"Oh sure! What do you want them to do?"

"Get them to bring order back to the strip, same parameters as before."

"Done and done!" Yes Man said happily. The blaring of sirens began to echo from the city below as flashing blue and red lights winked into existence.

Denn sighed deeply and pulled his goggles up to his forehead, rubbing his eyes wearily. He stood motionless for a moment, until he realized that Yes Man was staring at him unblinkingly.

"Sorry," Denn said, smiling under his rebreather. "Thank you, Yes Man. I couldn't of done it without you."

"Aw shucks," Yes Man replied sheepishly, "I'm sure you could have figured something out."

"Not likely. If I had given myself time to familiarize myself with House's systems beforehand, maybe, but since I trotted up here expecting the man to treat me as his savior, I almost sent the entire Mojave plunging into chaos. In fact, I might have done that anyway. I just unseated the man responsible for saving this entire region from Armageddon two hundred years ago. Now, I've got to figure out a way to keep the families under control _and_ make sure the NCR doesn't annex everything, while at the same time preparing for the Legion to scourge over the entire fucking area."

"Well… when you put it like that, it does sound pretty difficult… but wait until you hear about all the snazzy upgrades the Platinum Chip gave the Lucky 38's systems! I'll bet you wont have any worries about dealing with those uppity yokels after I tell you all the stuff it improved!"

"All right," Denn said, again smiling under his rebreather, "Impress me."

"I'd be delighted!"


	10. Chapter 9 - Hoover Dam VII

**_._**

 ** _October 23rd, 2281, 8:25 a.m._**

The sniper exhaled and at the moment his lungs emptied, squeezed the trigger of his rifle. A roar of sound pulsed through his ears and half an instant later the Legionary in his scope transformed into a cloud of blood and gore.

Beside the sniper a trooper whistled appreciatively. "What was that, fifteen-hundred yards?" he asked.

"Just about," the sniper answered, pulling his eye away from the scope and casting his gaze across the lake before him. Legion boats bobbed quietly in the distance, but there were no signs of movement onboard the makeshift vessels.

"Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" the trooper pressed.

"Probably the same place you did, give or take a couple years."

"I doubt it; we barely even learned how to clean a rifle before they shipped us out. It'd be nice to learn a thing or two from someone… experienced with a rifle."

The sniper raised one eyebrow and looked at the trooper quizzically. The soldier returned his gaze with a wink. Shaking his head, the man carrying the unwieldy sniper rifle returned his eye to his scope. "If you're ever in Novac, ask for Manny. He'd be happy to teach you how to handle a _rifle_ ," he quipped.

"Sounds like my kind of man," the trooper replied, turning his attention back to the lake as well. "How'd you know the Legion was going to attack from the water anyway?"

"I didn't know."

"Seemed confident enough when you told Hanlon that's what was going to happen."

"Made sense. Most of the Rangers are at the dam, leaving you troopers to defend this camp. Legion probably figured it was an easy mark."

"Guess they forgot to factor in what one man can do with a long… powerful rifle."

"I'm not supposed to be anywhere near here." The sniper replied, ignoring the innuendo.

"What do you mean by–"

"What's the word, gentlemen?" a rough voice asked from behind them.

"Four words," the sniper replied without turning around. "Dead in the water."

"Hanlon, sir!" the trooper jumped up and saluted awkwardly, fumbling with the pair of binoculars he was using to spot for the figure lying beside him.

"Easy son, those are expensive," Hanlon nodded to the trooper and moved to kneel beside the prone man. "What's the count?"

"Forty-three dead, seven wounded, looks like a little over four-hundred left," the sniper replied, "When I first started, they rowed like mad – picked off most of the Centurions at that point. They wised up quick enough."

"Now we got 'em pinned down," the trooper stated, grinning triumphantly. "They so much as peek at us and we give them a hell of a headache."

Hanlon smiled and looked pointedly at the trooper's binoculars. The soldier sheepishly knelt back down and turned his full attention to the lake. A moment of silence passed as the three watched the Legion boats bob peacefully in the water.

"That rifle could probably cut through whatever those boats are made of," Hanlon said quietly, "why don't you start shooting through them?"

"I'm in no hurry," the sniper replied. "Wind's blowing from the west, so they longer they stay crouched in the boats the farther they have to row to reach us. Letting them think the boats keep them safe also keeps them from getting desperate – lets them cook in the sun for awhile before they start moving again."

"Really think they'll keep pushing forward?" the trooper asked.

"Got nowhere else to go," Hanlon answered, meeting the trooper's eyes as the soldier glanced at him. "Lanius will cut them up himself if they turn tail and run."

"So we sit and-"

"Heads u-" the sniper interrupted before a furious blast of sound echoed from across the lake, drowning out the remainder of his warning. Caesar's main camp erupted into a billowing cloud of smoke and fire. As the trooper and Hanlon gaped at the rolling firestorm, it bloomed even larger and the thud of a second blast reverberated across the water.

Silence followed, but in the distance, Caesar's camp continued to glow – a second sun in the early morning light. A third, quieter explosion sounded closer to the dam, seeming much like an afterthought.

"Holy shit," the trooper exclaimed loudly, eyes locked on the charring land across the still water.

"Unto the fire, by fire be purged," Hanlon said under his breath. He met the trooper's questioning look and shook his head sadly. "Religious mantra from a cathedral dead now one-hundred years. Seemed fitting…"

"Legion's moving," the sniper stated, returning his gaze to his scope and firing an instant later. "Best get your troops ready, doubt I'll be dissuading them this time." He chambered another round into the weapon, and glanced at the trooper beside him. "Keep an eye out for Centurion helmets."

"How long do we have?" Hanlon asked, standing up slowly.

"Long enough," the sniper answered. Another round lanced across the water and ripped through a Legionary, embedding itself into the shoulder of the man behind him.

.

* * *

.

 ** _8:52 a.m._**

The dull hum of the gathered Securitron army turned into a muted howl as an onslaught of missiles raced into the cloudless sky. The explosives seemed to drift weightlessly for far too long before they plummeted, screaming to the earth below. For an instant, they vanished behind the walls of the Legate's Camp and there was silence.

The ground shuddered and the Legion fortifications vanished behind a maelstrom of fire and smoke. A wave of dust leapt out towards the Securitron army, carried by a rolling shockwave. The bellow of the explosion tore through the stunned bystanders, forcing the unprepared to momentarily lose their footing.

The relative peace of the burning encampment roared in the distance as the gathered NCR and Securitron forces fell silent. Troopers and Rangers stood stunned, unable to comprehend the devastation that had apparently just ended the brutal four-year-long conflict between them and the invaders of the east.

"Is that it?" Veronica asked, her quiet voice a stark difference from the explosion and its flaming aftermath.

"Not quite," Denn answered, turning to face the NCR troopers. "Inform General Oliver that the Legate's camp has been destroyed, and I personally will verify the death of the Legate. Now might be a good time for him to see to his wounded. If you will," the Courier finished and gestured purposefully towards the far end of the dam, politely ushering the troopers away. Hushed whispers followed the departing soldiers as they huddled together in a disjointed stupor.

Denn shook his head and turned towards the Remnants and his two companions. "Veronica and the Remnants will proceed to Caesar's camp. Cass and I will-"

"Wait a minute," Cass interrupted. "You sure Veronica should be going to the Legion's main camp?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure I could handle myself against the Legionary-Leftovers," Veronica said sardonically, winking at Cass when the redhead glowered at her.

"Oliver is many things," Denn stated quietly, drawing Cass' attention back to himself. "One of those things is a fool, but another is a dangerous man. I'd rather have Veronica behind the Securitron army then between it and the NCR."

Cass began to reply, but stopped and glanced over at the NCR Rangers. The veteran soldiers were talking to each other in earnest and appeared to be pantomiming the recent detonation. "You really think the NCR will make a move now?" she asked, frowning at the Courier.

"As the whole? Unlikely. but I'd rather be safe."

"I'll be fine – I've got these two suits to look after me!" Veronica said reassuringly, gesturing to the two armored Remnants.

"One suit, actually," one of the armored soldiers replied. The Remnant turned to the aged commander beside him. "With your permission, I'd like to accompany the Courier into the Legate's camp."

"Are you sure?" Denn asked, looking back and forth between the officer and the soldier. "We weren't able to restart your weapon-systems, so you'll be unarmed."

"Unarmed, but armored," the soldier stated, still facing his officer. "I'd like to see this through to the end, sir."

The commander stood in silence, seeming to stare through the armored soldier's helmet to the man within. "We're not Enclave anymore, Johnson," he said finally. "I've got no authority to keep you from doing what you want."

"Old habits die hard, sir, and… this is personal. If it is tactically unsound, I would have you say so."

"The battle's over," the commander said, glancing at the flaming encampment. "What are you looking for in there?"

The armored soldier stood silent for a moment. "I don't know," he answered, shaking his head.

In the distance, a structure within the Legate's camp fell loudly and a pillar of embers billowed into the sky.

"If the Courier will have you, I see no reason for you not to accompany him," the officer said finally.

Johnson nodded and turned towards the Courier.

"I would appreciate the support," Denn admitted, "but once we verify the Legate's death we're leaving. I'm not looking for another fight."

"I don't think I am either," Johnson said quietly, crossing his arms and looking back at the distant fire. The Courier turned his attention to the burning camp as well. Vernoica gave Cass a tight hug and she and the other Remnants met up with Doctor Henry, making their way through the Securitron army towards Caesar's camp. Yes Man wheeled away purposelessly, humming happily to himself. The three remaining figures stood in silence as the distant fortifications went from flaring pillars to smoldering husks.

Eventually, the Courier broke the silence. "See if you can get a bandana from the Rangers, Cass."

"Sure. Why?" Cass asked, starting to make her way to the NCR soldiers.

"Soak it in water to help with the smoke," Denn answered, turning and shrugging slightly. "I don't have another rebreather, sorry."

Cass waved him off and jogged over to the Rangers. Denn waited until she was out of earshot before glancing at the Remnant. "Remember how we met, Johnson?"

"I thought you were the Grim reaper, come to take my life at last," Johnson answered, crossing his arms and shaking his head as a low chuckle reverberated through his helmet. "You have to admit, you do look the part more often than not, 'specially when you walked into my cave."

Denn spread his arms and examined his bloodstained armor. "I guess that's true. Those Geckos outside your camp were particularly vicious, if I remember correctly."

"Weren't happy I had taken their home and weren't unhappy enough to try to take it back. Situation would make any creature feel particularly testy."

Denn nodded and turned back to his Securitron army and the Rangers. Cass appeared to have tackled one of the NCR soldiers and was showing the men gathered around her the methodologies of a proper hogtie, much to her victim's protestations. "Are you still waiting for death?" Denn asked quietly, looking back at the Remnant.

The armored soldier glanced at the Courier. "I'm not sure," he answered wearily.

"I plan to take the Mojave," Denn stated, holding up his hands as Johnson snapped his head towards him, arms uncrossing in alarm. "I know you see the NCR as a positive influence, but they're overreaching. Their society is unsustainable. In five years they'll suffer a famine. Up to twenty percent of their population will die from lack of food alone, to say nothing of the violent upheaval such a shortage will cause. I can help them stabilize, but not if the current leadership stays in power. They need a defeat – need to focus their power inward. Taking the Mojave will do the NCR more harm than good, so I will keep it from them. Nonviolently, if possible, and even if it comes to war I will take as little life as I can.

"I'm telling you this because in order to keep the NCR from rolling over the Mojave, I will need soldiers. I have the Securitrons, and their strength is substantial, but I cannot replace them quickly enough to sustain a real campaign. They need human beings backing them up – real soldiers. I need experience to train these soldiers. I need people like you, Johnson, to train them. You've seen what my Securitrons can do, and I would rather not turn their strength against the NCR. A well-trained army would serve as further deterrent. I know you think you have seen your life come and go, but there's more that you can do. Help me train the protectors of the Mojave and I will help the NCR survive – help build their future."

"Your companions, do they know?" Johnson asked, turning his head towards Cass and the gathered Rangers.

"Only Ganon," Denn answered, following the Remnants gaze. "Telling the others would have made them targets. After today, there'll be no helping that, even if they decide to stop helping me."

"It's up to them?"

"Always."

The Remnant turned back towards the Courier and appeared to take a measure of the blood-soaked man. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Two years." Denn paused as he saw Cass returning, soaked bandana in hand. "I'm not expecting an answer, and I'd appreciate it if you kept what I told you close to your chest, at least for now."

"Can do," the Remnant stated, crossing his arms and turning back the Legion camp.

"Do what?" Cass asked, shaking loose droplets of water from her hand.

"Did you really have to hogtie one of them?" Denn quipped, turning back to face the NCR Rangers that were grouped around their companion, rocking him back and forth with the toes of their boots.

"He said he would let me have a bandana for a 'little something on the side.' I figured a lesson in knots was good enough." Cass shrugged, grinning mischievously.

"Looks more like a lesson in humility," Johnson said dryly, a low chuckle reverberating from his helmet as the Rangers began to pose with their hogtied counterpart – seeming to pretend they were having their picture taken or a sculpture was being made of the scene to commemorate their victory.

"He seems like a quick learner," Cass replied as the restrained Ranger's complaints echoed across the dam. "We heading out soon?"

"We've got time," Denn answered, looking over to the Legion camp. "No reason to rush into a fire-pit like that."

"So what do we do in the meantime?"

"Wait."

Cass rolled her eyes and turned to the armored Remnant. "You're Cannibal Johnson, right?"

"Most of the time."

"Only when the hunger takes you?"

"Basically."

"I don't buy it, how'd you get the name?"

"Did something cannibalistic. The truth of it is I did cut out a raider's heart, but only took a bite out of it to mess with his buddies. They had me surrounded-"

.

* * *

.

 ** _9:25 a.m._**

A low gust of wind slid across scorched earth – ash and embers flowing in its wake. The skeletal structures of the Legate's camp groaned with the disturbance, having been burned to barren husks in the firestorm half an hour before.

Ruined as it was, the Legion camp still retained an eerie order. Straight rows – regimented aisles – stood as testament to the machine of war that had necessitated the formation. This pattern of buildings had been created hundreds of times before and the construction was perfected further each time the Legion made camp. Every Legionary knew their post, and at their posts they had burned. Charred skeletons littered the ground – bones seared clean of flesh. In the distance, a crow cried angrily, its meal stolen by insatiable flames.

A lone figure stood at the center of the camp – eyes locked on a tattered flag clenched in his fists. Covered in steel armor stained black with soot, the man's muted breath rumbled ceaselessly. Ash fell away from the flag, revealing the golden bull painted upon it. Suddenly, the man pulled apart the heavy cloth as if it was no more than paper, letting the ragged halves fall to the ground.

A dull thud echoed from the battered gate of the encampment. The figure turned, the frozen visage of his faceplate emotionless as another blow struck what remained of the camp's fortifications. Without a word, the man pulled his sword from the earth beside him. Flames licked the weapon's edge as he brandished it – its blade standing the length of a man's arm. Effortlessly, the sole Legion survivor hefted the blade and jogged away from the camp's entrance, heavy footfalls crunching loudly through the ashen carnage.

.

* * *

.

For the third time, Johnson slammed his fist against the Legion-made gate and finally it gave way. A cloud of ash blew into the air, and as the heavy metal fell, the Legion camp revealed itself.

"Lord…" Cass whispered, one hand reaching up to push her bandana closer to her mouth as the stench of burnt flesh assailed her. Denn stood unmoving, his gaze locked on the decimated legion camp.

Lanius had called for the retreat when the Securitron army appeared at his flank, and Legionaries had flooded into the Legate's camp. Those unable to push their way into the mass of soldiers died at the gates, cut down by laser fire. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, the Legion had been ready to receive their next order. There they had waited – there they had died.

The land before the inner camp was a sea of corpses. There were no cries of the wounded, no shouts of survivors, only the low howl of the death-laden wind.

"Two thousand?" Johnson asked, surveying the lifeless Legion camp.

Denn nodded slightly but said nothing. Moving past the armored Remnant, he started to make his way across the charred landscape.

"No call for surrender. No measure of mercy," Johnson continued, following after the Courier. The Remnant barely raised his feet as he walked, pushing bodies to the side and providing a path for Cass to walk upon. "Total war, the Legion way."

"There were close to eight thousand Legion soldiers at the dam. Between them and the NCR, this was the largest battle since before the Great War," Denn stated, carefully moving down a slight embankment. "The total Legion strength is estimated to be much higher. Twenty thousand Legionaries hold the east, and the only thing they understand is total war.

"Caesar held the Legion together, and with his fall they will dissolve. The strongest ones will all take the name of Caesar and fight amongst themselves for land and power. I did this to dissuade what plans of revenge the surviving Legion may have. If one gathers enough strength to match what Caesar had today, they may test us again, but that will be years from now."

"Best not put any limits on the tenacity of the Legion, former or otherwise," Cass said loudly, stepping gingerly over a particularly desecrated corpse. "Four years ago the NCR thought they had rid themselves of 'em, and within months Legionnaires were back to raiding supply lines as if nothing had changed."

"Caesar didn't fall four years ago," Denn replied, reaching a second, smaller gate and standing to the side to make room for Johnson. "This time, he did."

"What makes you think he didn't make it out?" Johnson asked as he moved forward, easily pushing the smaller gate to the ground and continuing to the inner camp. "Could've made his escape during the battle."

"Caesar is his Legion," Denn responded, following after the Remnant. The three companions made their way towards the center of the camp where the largest Legion buildings resided. "He sees himself as a God – Mars made flesh. He didn't retreat, and even if he did, it would be too-"

A charred building to Johnson's left suddenly exploded with movement. A metal giant burst from the structure as if it were a gateway to another realm. Embers from the wreckage licked the man's scorched armor as he stabbed his sword down towards the startled Remnant. Johnson did his best to react to the attack, but his opponent's sword slid unerringly to the seam between the Remnant's helmet and chestplate. Landing heavily, the burned Legion solider drove his sword into Johnson's chest, causing a stream of blood to erupt from the man's armor.

As the ambusher finished his attack, a jolt of electricity rushed through his body causing his muscles to clench painfully. The Courier leapt onto the stunned Legion soldier's back, yanking his helmet to the side with one hand and preparing to drive a knife into his neck with the other.

The man released his weapon and caught Denn's strike just before it landed. Tensing and using his entire body in a single brutal movement, he flung the lithe Courier bodily through the air. With nothing supporting him, Johnson fell forward, the vicious Legion weapon still embedded in his chest.

The blackened monster straightened from his throw but fell forward again as a shotgun slug rammed against his back. Spinning around, he was stuck a second time in the center of his chest – the shot driving him back a half step.

"Shit…" Cass lamented, her 12-gauge slugs lacking the force to penetrate the tempered plate armor. Seeming to grow even larger, the Legion soldier charged at the red-haired woman, his heavy footsteps causing clouds of ash to rise from the ground. Cass continued to fire at him, and the shots slowed the giant of a man slightly, but still he pressed forward.

An instant before the soldier reached her, Cass dove to the side, spinning as she did to fire one last round against her adversaries' torso. The shot caught him midstride, and the different angle of the blow caused him to lose his balance. At that moment, the Courier rejoined the fray, leaping into the air and slamming both of his feet against the faltering giant's back. Dual explosions of sound and force erupted from his heels and the Legion soldier fell into another scorched structure.

Rolling backwards as he hit the ground, the Courier pulled a grenade out of his bandoleer. Ripping out its safety clip, Denn tossed the explosive into the building and dove to cover his prone companion.

The grenade exploded with a dull thump and the Courier immediately rose, gripping Cass' forearm and pulling her up just as quickly. Indicating to the redhead to keep an eye on the structure the Legion soldier was buried in, Denn ran to the fallen Remnant. The ash beneath Johnson was soaked with blood, and as the Courier pulled off the man's helmet, he knew that it was too late. Shaking his head angrily, Denn reached inside Johnson's armor and deactivated its generator, letting its quiet hum pass into nothingness.

"Who the fuck was that?" Cass asked, gaze still locked on the recently collapsed structure.

"Lanius," Denn answered, turning around just as the charred rubble began to shift. Shaking off ash-covered debris as a wolf would shake off loose water, Legate Lanius rose out of the cooling embers of the Legion building. A single step carried him free of the ruin, another cemented his balance on the uneven ground, and then he was charging. Completely silent beyond the sound of his armor and heavy footfalls, there was no rage in the Legate's attack, only retribution – the promise of death.

The Monster of the East was gone – he had died with his army. All that remained was the Legion's vengeance, and it would be swift.


	11. Chapter 10 - Hoover Dam VIII

**It's kind of cheating, but loading up a youtube video of an epic music compilation really makes the final fight. Pandora Journey has my favorite collections!**

* * *

 ** _October 23_** ** _rd_** ** _, 2281, 4:24 a.m._**

"What is it, Frumentarius?"

"Caesar is dead."

"Who else knows?"

"Only Lucius."

"No one else will be told until our victory is achieved, am I clear?

"Completely. Lucius has ordered the remainder of the Praetorians to your side."

"They will prove useful. You may go."

"A moment, Legate."

"You have it. Speak quickly."

"I have your word you will use the outsider's weapons?"

"I will not depend on this technology. It is a crutch and-"

"The outsiders gave us more than their weapons; they gave us knowledge. The Courier is more than a man; he is of the old world. We _will_ use this knowledge."

"Ursus has his weapon, I have mine, and the cannon is ready for his mechanical slaves. I give you no word, Inculta, beyond that either the Courier will fall, or I will."

"If you would at lea-"

"You forget yourself, Frumentarii, and you forget who I am – _what_ I now am. This Legion is mine. Serve me… or I will end you."

"My apologies, _Caesar_."

"Leave. Scout to your liking… play your games… but stay out of my way."

"Of course, _Caesar_."

* * *

 ** _9:30 a.m._**

Cass stabbed her knife down, finally finding a seam in her opponent's armor, and embedded the weapon into the Legate's flesh. Lanius turned in response and slammed his fist against her chest, causing the breath to be forced from her lungs as she flew backwards. Clutching her torso, the red-haired woman rose to her knees, wheezing as she tried to recover from the impossibly brutal strike.

As Lanius turned back towards his other opponent, the Courier sliced his curved machete against the Legate's faceplate, staggering him and causing a cascade of sparks to ignite where the two metals met. Using the sparks as a visual barrier, Denn spun to stand directly before the monster of a man and stabbed his blade up, trying to impale his opponent through the space between his helmet and chestplate.

Reacting faster than a man of his stature should've been capable of, Lanius caught the blade and before Denn could disengage, smashed his other fist directly into the Courier's faceplate. Denn's visor cracked and he reeled from the heavy blow. With his opponent disoriented, Lanius tossed aside the machete and latched onto the Courier's riot armor with both hands. Lifting Denn as if he were a child, Lanius slammed him against a skeletal building before turning the Courier upside down and preparing to bring him crashing to the ground – the maneuver intended to break the man's neck.

Twisting desperately, the Courier wrapped his legs around Lanius' arms and flexed, changing the momentum of his fall and causing his opponent to stagger forward. Denn landed on his back while the Legate fell over him, his faceplate thudding against the ground.

Trying to take advantage of his momentarily stunned opponent, the Courier rolled out from under the man. Before he could clear the Legate's range, Lanius' hand lanced out and seized Denn's leg. Rising furiously, the Legate spun, smashing the Courier's body through nearby structures before releasing him to sail through the air and slam against a steel flagpole.

Denn shook his head in a daze, trying to recover from being tossed about like an old doll, and felt the Legate's hands close around his throat like a vice. Lanius once again lifted the Courier from the ground.

Pulling his leg up, Denn drew a knife from its sheath in his boot and slammed it against the Legate's bicep. For the first time, Lanius' armor was punctured as the mirrored blade pierced through the metal and embedded itself into the flesh beneath.

Lanius grunted in surprise, but refused to relinquish his hold on the Courier. Running out of options, Denn pulled a small tin can from a bandoleer and flicked a makeshift switch on its side. The Courier held the homemade explosive before the Legtae's faceplate, and when the man slapped it away, slammed his left foot against the inside of Lanius' right thigh.

The distortion emitter on Denn's heel erupted and a blast of force caused the Legate's leg to fly out from under him. Pulling his unbalanced opponent forward, the Courier brought Lanius once more crashing down on top of him as the two of them fell to the ground. Instead of trying to escape as he had earlier, the Courier locked his arms around the Legate, keeping the juggernaut in place.

The Courier's proximity to the Legate's body slightly muffled the sound of the tin can's detonation, but Denn clearly heard the plasma that splashed against his opponent's armored back. A moment later, Lanius roared in agony and flexed, breaking the Courier's hold. The Legion commander rose to his knees and began to viciously bombard his lithe adversary. Continuing to bellow as the plasma burned through his armor and the skin beneath, the Legate's strength seemed to have doubled as he battered through Denn's defenses.

Ripping off one of the Courier's shoulder-guards, Lanius yanked on the man's arm, pulling it violently free of its socket with a gut-wrenching pop. Holding Denn's other arm to the side, the Legate ignored the man's weakened limb and pounded away at the Courier's head, causing cracks to appear across the man's combat helmet.

Suddenly, Lanius fell forward, his continuous roar faltering as Cass stabbed Denn's machete through his melting chestplate and into his back. Pulling the blade free, she yelled hoarsely as she prepared another strike.

Lanius' leg lashed out and struck Cass' knee, causing the woman to stumble. The Legate's hand lanced out and seized Cass by the throat as she fell. Rising, the juggernaut held both the red-haired woman and the Courier in the air at arms length. Cass's eyes bulged as the Legate's hand began to close, crushing her throat. The world shimmered and darkened, the Legate's faceplate becoming an unfocused blur.

Denn whistled sharply, and as Lanius turned his attention towards him, snapped his body like a compressed spring to slam his heel against his opponent's helmet. The explosion of sound and force caused a clasp holding the Legate's headpiece together to snap and the helmet twisted awkwardly, blinding him completely. Dropping Cass, Lanius returned both hands to the Courier and flung him into a nearby structure, causing it to collapse loudly.

Faltering after the heavy throw, the Legate raised his hands to try and readjust the twisted metal of his helmet. Finding this impossible, the Legion commander grunted and ripped it from his body, tossing it carelessly to the ground.

Lanius ran a hand through his hair, pulling it out of his eyes as he turned towards the fallen woman behind him. Cass was crawling across the wreckage of the Legion camp; coughing weakly as she tried to reach the riot shotgun the Legate had disarmed her of earlier in the fight. Eyes hard, the juggernaut began to stalk after her.

"Lanius," a voice called out from behind him. The Legate half turned, looking back at the Courier as the man pulled himself out of the gutted building. One of Denn's rebreather's tubes had broken off during the fight and hissed quietly, but the Courier ignored it and stared across the battlefield at his opponent. "We're not done."

The Legate held his gaze for a moment, before turning back to his crawling prey. Denn started to move after him, reaching his uninjured arm behind his head to the back of his rebreather as he did.

Lanius spun, pulling a completely smooth sphere out of a pouch at his side and sending it flying through the air. As it flew unerringly towards the Courier, the sphere snapped open and erupted with pulsing, dark-blue energy. The weapon crackled loudly as it impacted against Denn, enveloping him in waves of arching electricity.

The pulsating energy caused Denn to seize violent – every muscle in his body tensing simultaneously – and sent him sprawling forward to land heavily on the ash covered ground. The Courier's body twitched for a few seconds, before lying completely still.

Silence settled over the scorched camp, broken intermittently by Cass' ragged breathing. The Legate turned away from the Courier and walked towards the woman, passing by her as she stared at her fallen companion. Picking up the discarded shotgun, Lanius broke it over his knee and dropped it at Cass's side as he moved back towards Denn's unmoving form. As he passed, the redhead reached out weakly and tried to latch onto his armored boot, but was easily shaken off.

Reaching his adversary, Lanius leaned down and rolled the Courier over. Denn's chest rose and fell weakly, but beyond his shallow breathing he was lost to the world. Kneeling, the Legate ripped the damaged rebreather and combat helmet off of the Courier.

Lanius sat back on his heels and stared at the man below him, shaking his head angrily. Suddenly, the Legate slammed his fist against Denn's face. Pulling his arm back, he repeated the motion. Blow after blow thudded into the Courier, the sound of Lanius' fists striking his victim's skull growing muffled and wet as the assault continued.

Relentlessly, the Legate bombarded his target. The Legion commander's hair fell into his eyes but he refused to wipe it away – refused to stop smashing his opponent into the dirt. Refused to relent as the Courier's skull refused to break.

"Coward."

It was spoken quietly, by a voice with little strength behind it, but still the word carried across the scorched encampment. Lanius froze, his eyes widening as he stared down at his bleeding opponent. Looking up slowly, the Legate fixed his gaze on the woman who was the source of the insult.

Cass had propped herself up with her back against a burned structure. She smiled as the Legate turned to her, a ragged laugh pulling itself out of her lungs and turning into a weak cough. "You heard me," she said, her voice rough and her eyes blazing defiantly as the Legate rose. "You're a coward – a spineless commander who lost the entirety of his army and couldn't even defeat a single man without using old world tech. For a self-righteous cunt, you certainly do have a way of depending on everything but your own strength."

Lanius stared hatefully at the crimson-haired woman – his arms shaking as his fists clenched and unclenched.

"What? Don't have any response?" Cass continued. "You know it's true. You know his defeat isn't your victory. You didn't win anything today."

Lanius eyes stayed hard for an instant longer, before his shoulders slumped and his rage seemed to vanish. "He will die," he said, his voice emotionless, "as will you. The part I play is meaningless." The Legate began to stalk over to Cass, reaching down and picking up the Courier's machete as he did so.

An unearthly inhalation suddenly echoed from behind him. Lanius turned, raising his opponent's weapon defensively. Exhaling just as loudly, the Courier rose, his head hanging slack on his shoulders. Clenching his dislocated shoulder with his uninjured arm, Denn forced the joint back into place with a resounding pop.

The Courier's face was beaten to a pulp. Extensive bruising forced one eye closed while the undamaged eye stared down unseeingly at the ashen earth. A wide cut on his forehead covered his face with blood and Denn's mouth hung open loosely, his lip torn apart and most of his teeth chipped or broken off entirely. Another hollow breath forced its way through the Courier's throat, its resonance macabre as it reverberated through the air. Denn turned, and began to walk purposelessly through the camp, stumbling over charred rubble, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

Lanius shifted his stance, following his opponent's awkward movements, and the sound of his armor caused Denn to freeze. Turning to face the Legate, Denn's un-bruised eye flicked erratically across the camp, but was apparently unable to see the Legate. Another breath erupted from the Courier's throat – a sound that seemed impossible for a human being to make – and he stumbled back towards Lanius, his pace much faster than before as he staggered across the uneven ground.

The Legate charged. Bringing the curved machete to bear, he swung down at the Courier's head, but Denn's uncoordinated movements suddenly turned into a fluid sprint as he dove under the heavy swing. Rising inside the Legate's arms, the Courier latched onto his opponent's head. Clawing wildly at Lanius' face, another unearthly dirge exploded from his lungs as his opponent screamed in pain.

Forcing two of his fingers into the Legate's mouth, the Courier ripped his hand to the side with unnatural strength, tearing Lanius' cheek apart and sending gore flying through the air. Dropping the machete, Lanius tried desperately to pull the Courier away from him, but Denn 's hands moved to grip the Legate's wild hair, refusing to be excised from his position. Finally, Lanius won the grapple as the Courier ripped two chunks of hair from his head. Tossing his writhing adversary to the side, Lanius turned and started to run towards the fallen Remnant, frantic to retrieve his weapon from the armored corpse.

Before he could reach the embedded blade, the Courier slammed against his back and the force of the blow drove the Legate to the ground. As he lifted his head wearily, a heavy piece of metal thudded against the back of it, leaving him dazed. Denn had landed on the Legate's discarded helmet when he had been tossed away, and now used it as a bludgeon to bash against his opponent's skull.

Lanius crawled the last few feet to his discarded weapon, despite the Courier's continuous barrage. As he reached his arm up to grasp the shaft of his weapon, Denn stabbed the ornamental spike at the top of the Legate's helmet into the unprotected seam under his opponent's shoulder. Lanius roared once as the strength left his arm entirely and again as the Courier seized that arm and began to pull it back towards him.

Denn braced against his opponent and yanked the Legate's limb behind the man's back, causing Lanius to cry out as the tendons in his shoulder began to rip apart. A loud pop indicated the arm had slipped free of its socket, but still the Courier pulled. Finally, the sound of tearing flesh was overshadowed by the Legate's scream of agony as Denn tore the man's arm from his body. Falling limp as his lifeblood began to spill to the ashen earth, Lanius could barely feel the blows as the Courier used the detached arm as a club, smashing it against his opponent's head.

Denn, or whatever entity now controlled him, tirelessly attacked the corpse. The assault continued long after the Legate's skull had been decimated beyond recognition.

Suddenly, the Courier stopped, dropping the limb and stepping off the fallen juggernaut. Letting out another hollow breath, he began to once again wander across the burned encampment.

A muffled cough interrupted his random journey. The Courier froze, frantically casting his gaze once more across the landscape. Cass held as still as she could – her hand covering her mouth as she desperately tried to suppress her ragged breathing. She was unsuccessful, and another cough forced its way through her.

The Courier turned, his eye locked directly onto the woman, and he began to half-stumble half-run across the battlefield. His target desperately crawled backwards, forgetting her efforts to remain quiet and coughing frantically as she struggled to draw air through her damaged throat. When Denn made it within five yards of his target, he leaped into the air, pouncing towards Cass like a great cat. The red-haired woman raised her hands out towards the Courier – one final act to keep the creature at bay.

A sharp hiss of electricity echoed through the encampment and a giant grey arm seemed to materialize from thin air in a burst of white energy. The heavily muscled limb reached out to seize the flying Courier, stopping him dead. As the wave of static traveled up the arm, it revealed a hulking super mutant, dressed in brown overalls with a straw hat secured tightly to its head. Pulling Denn to its chest, the super mutant wrapped its arms around the Courier and fell to a sitting position, its gigantic frame almost completely enveloping the smaller man.

Denn writhed and twisted, his unearthly breathing rattling continuously from his lungs as he desperately tried to free himself. The super mutant gritted its teeth and held the Courier, ignoring his frantic movements. Cass' world began to darken, her heavy breathing overwhelming her damaged throat. Her head fell back, and as the sky turned black, she heard the Courier's unholy breaths go silent.

* * *

Denn pulled a syringe out of a pouch in his coat and pressed it into the side of his neck, emptying its contents. He shook quietly as the medicine immediately had an effect. Jerking the syringe out, he quickly broke off the top and pulled the stopper from the bottom of it.

Leaning down, he drew a knife out of his boot and carefully cut a small incision across Cass' neck, just below her larynx. Cautiously, he pushed the empty syringe into the opening and reached into his pack to pull out small cylinder. Holding the container to the wound, he sprayed its foam contents around the plastic to help keep the syringe in place.

"She'll be able to breath now," he said quietly, his voice broken and rough as he stood. "As long as she isn't jostled too much and the airway stays clear, an auto-doc should be able to fix her trachea easily. Hopefully she doesn't mind the residual med-x from the syringe, but in light of recent events she'll probably be more worried about-" his voice broke off and he took a step back, his gaze falling to the Legate's corpse lying on the ground thirty yards away.

A huge grey hand fell on his shoulder. "It wasn't you, dearie," the grey super mutant behind him said, squeezing his shoulder tightly before turning him to face her. "You knew this could happen, which is why you had me follow you. You did everything you could to protect your friends from that part of you, just like I do everything I can to protect my friends from that part of me. Leo doesn't bother me anymore, and someday that part of you won't bother you either."

"What if you had been hurt in the battle?" the Courier asked, his voice tired. "What if you had been unable to stop me? I'm putting everyone at risk, and every minute I spend with other people increases the likelihood that I'll-"

The super mutant pulled the Courier to her chest, lifting him in the air with an impossibly tight bear hug. Denn dangled awkwardly – his arms held tight to his sides and his face pressed into the super mutant's muscular bosom. "You did what you had to, dearie," she said comfortingly as she swayed the Courier from side to side.

Denn's muffled response was lost in the super mutant's chest, and the hulking creature set him down carefully. Collecting himself after the sinewy, grandmotherly embrace, the Courier smiled up at his grey companion. "Lily, I really can't thank you enough for… everything."

"Oh poppycock," Lily said contentedly, bringing her hand up to pinch Denn's cheek lightly, but still painfully with the Courier's face damaged as it was. "I'd do anything for my family."

Denn smile lingered for a moment after she released him before falling as he looked back towards Cass. "Can the Stealth Boy prototype conceal two people?" he asked, moving to kneel beside the woman.

"Of course, dearie," the super mutant answered.

"Then take her to Caesar's camp. Have Henry take a look at her to make sure she'll be ok. We'll get her back to the Lucky 38 as soon as we can."

Lily nodded, kneeling down to lift the injured woman, careful not to disrupt her triaged throat. Smiling at the Courier, she and her human parcel disappeared in a burst of white electricity and the hiss of static. Denn could only just hear the practiced footsteps of the former nightkin assassin as she walked across the scorched earth.

The Courier stared at the exit to the camp before turning back to the Legate's corpse. His shoulder's slumped forward and he reached up to rub his face gingerly, eyes closed tightly.

He could recall the final chapter of his fight with Lanius as if it were a dream; darkness, an impossible sense of the world around him, the echoing sounds of metal and flesh – one smashing into the other. Most of all, he remembered the rage that had burned through his entire body. His eyes snapped open as the final image of the fight flashed before him – Cass staring up at him in terror.

Pulling up his pip-boy, he ran diagnostics of his internal systems. The uplink to ED-E had been fried by Lanius' weapon, and as he tried to access it, a jolt of electricity sparked from the base of his skull, causing him to twitch. Stretching uncomfortably, he made sure his other systems were stable before dropping his arms and scanning the camp for his discarded helmet and rebreather.

He found them, and spat out as much blood as he could from his devastated mouth while he moved over to where they lay. Picking up his helmet, he examined it for a moment before tossing it to the side and retrieving his rebreather. Pulling off its damaged tube, the Courier modified the device to compensate and tied it to his head, it's clasp having been destroyed by the Legate. Denn inhaled deeply, but the breath caused him to cough and he pulled the device away from him, spitting out more of the blood from his mouth.

Wearily, the Courier retrieved his machete and walked over to the Legate's corpse and the Remnant beside it. Reaching down, he picked up Lanius' damaged helmet and pulled his mirrored knife from the body's bicep, returning it to its sheath in his boot.

Denn moved over to Johnson's body and reached inside the armor, flicking a switch and causing a light on its side to ping methodically on and off. Moving his hand to the shaft of the massive blade embedded in the body, he pulled, but the weapon refused to give and the movement caused Denn to wince in pain.

The Courier's gaze returned to the Legate's corpse and the detached arm that lay beside it. He could still feel the weight of the limb as it sailed though the air – could still feel the impact as it smashed against a man's skull – could still feel the rush of adrenaline, satisfaction and… amusement.

Denn closed his eyes, arms shaking. _You didn't do this,_ he told himself internally. _This isn't you._

He didn't believe it.

Turning away, the Courier made his way out of the camp. As he reached the outer entrance, he paused, surveying the land before him.

NCR Troopers littered the dam. It appeared that the soldiers were moving sandbags back into place to rebuild the fortifications. The Securitron army faced them, cold and emotionless in the mid-morning sunlight. "About time you showed up, Oliver," Denn said under his breath.

"So glad you agree," a voice hissed from behind him, and the Courier felt the barrel of a gun press against his back.


	12. Chapter 11 - Hoover Dam IX

**_._**

 ** _October 23rd, 2281, 9:47 p.m._**

"Don't think I don't appreciate your taking out the Legate – we would've had a hard time of it by ourselves – but I'm afraid this is where your little story ends."

"Oliver, how nice of you to join us," Denn replied, dropping the Legate's helmet and moving his hands to his sides, holding his palms to the sky. "I'm surprised you even know how to work a Stealth Boy; doesn't the NCR usually hire outside help when it comes to technology? Remind me, how long did Mr. Fantastic run the energy management department back in Shady Sands after HELIOS One turned back on? Shame he had no idea how he increased the output..."

A low chuckle reverberated behind him. "I thought that might've been you," Oliver said, the barrel of his gun pressing tighter against the Courier's back. "Just one more slight against something you ought not've slighted. I told President Kimball we should've had you assassinated months ago."

"And now you'll do the job yourself?" The Courier asked, glancing behind him and seeing only seemingly empty air. "Seems like a big chance for the acting General of the military to take."

"I'm a gambling man, and a rock solid alibi makes things easier. See, right now I'm in a private communication with Kimball and am not to be interrupted. If a _little_ old _Courier_ should be shot in the back while I'm there… well… I suppose I'll just have to do my best to act surprised. I have to thank you for making all of this so easy, by the way. With Caesar's Legion, we had a line of succession a mile long to deal with, but with you? Who's gonna' take charge when you're gone, the cripple? It'll be child's play to kill him and-"

The Courier suddenly slapped his hand behind him and a burst of electricity erupted from the hem of his duster. White energy enveloped the air behind him and General Oliver appeared – the jacket and hat customary of those of his rank conspicuously absent. The General wrapped one arm around the Courier's neck and turned the man so he stood between him and the dam while pushing the gun barrel even harder into Denn's back.

"You have been nothing but a God-damned inconvenience since you walked into my office," Oliver lamented, glancing down at the angrily sparking Stealth Boy clipped to his belt. "What'd that even accomplish, huh? Everyone over at the dam is too far away to see anything, and even if they do, it'll just look like a wasteland yokel shooting you in the back and running away."

"Not quite, ED-E can see things well enough," the Courier said, gesturing with his hand to the sky over his right shoulder.

Oliver's eyes followed the Courier's gesture and he spotted a small robot innocently bobbing in the air less than twenty yards away. A happy trill emerged from the machine as Oliver tried to duck further behind the Courier, and it moved to keep line of sight on the crouching General.

"Smile, Oliver," Denn said, glancing back at the General, "this conversation – along with an audio recording – is being broadcasted to every station able to receive it, as well as my Securitrons."

Oliver looked at the dam and saw the NCR troopers no longer rebuilding their fortifications. They now stood facing either the Securitron army, or straight towards where he and the Courier stood.

"I guess that alibi isn't 'rock solid' anymore," Denn continued, his eyes dancing as the General turned back towards him. "I wonder how it feels, Oliver, to be publically humiliated like this – twice, nonetheless. Two times now, you've had the glory taken from you by better men, and this time you get to deal with every single person in the wasteland seeing it happen. Imagine it, Oliver, everyone you ever meet from now on will be thinking of this video, of your defeat and how your lips quivered like a mewling-"

The roar of a gunshot erupted from Oliver's weapon, silencing the Courier. Denn fell forward, the General's hold on him gone as Oliver stared at him in shock. Turning his gaze to the gun smoking in his hand, Oliver's eyebrows creased in stunned disbelief. ED-E trilled angrily and a burst of electricity erupted from the small robot, enveloping the NCR General and causing him to drop like a rock.

Simultaneously, all of the Securitrons' display screens at the dam turned bright red, and the hatches on their missile launcher systems flipped open. Hundreds of blaring claxons burst to life and overshadowed the hum of the automatons' weaponry as they prepared to fire. The NCR troopers fell back, their eyes wide with terror as the Securitron army prepared to destroy them.

"No! Hold fire."

The order reverberated through the Securitrons' speaker systems, silencing their bellowing sirens. The hum of the mechanized weaponry ceased, and the Securitrons settled back down to their customary relaxed stance. Their crimson display screens turned black, before returning to the broadcast from ED-E, now a close up of the fallen Courier.

Denn was lying on his side, one hand clenching his torso where he had been shot and the other holding his rebreather to his face. "Colonel Moore," he continued breathlessly. "I am taking custody of General Oliver. Come to the Legate's camp alone," The Courier gestured to ED-E and the small robot ended the broadcast.

A group of eight Securitrons broke away from the gathered formation and raced to the Legate's camp. Moving to the Courier, seven of them formed a visual barrier between the dam and their now-kneeling commander, while the last wheeled up right beside the Courier.

"Bet that hurt!" Yes Man exclaimed happily, its smiling display screen flickering slightly.

Denn looked up from bandaging the injury on his side, his good eye slightly glazed from yet another syringe of med-x. "Oh yeah," he said happily, returning his attention to filling his bullet wound with medicinal foam. "Got him to shoot, though, and that will make this next part much, much easier."

Oliver groaned and began to stir, the knockout effect of ED-E's attack wearing off.

"Keep him out, I don't need him conscious right now," the Courier asked, gesturing to the General.

Yes Man's arm extended and slammed into Oliver's skull. The General fell limp.

Denn stared at the fallen commander and then glanced back up at the grinning Securitron. "Sometimes I really regret letting you become independent," the Courier quipped.

"Really?" Yes Man asked, seemingly hurt.

"No," Denn answered, reaching a hand out towards the robot.

Yes Man chuckled mechanically and reached down to help the Courier rise, supporting him as he stumbled slightly. A hatch opened on the robot's side, and Yes Man pulled out a pair of scratched-up glasses. "Got these off a Legionary, might want to put them on," the Securitron suggested. "Moore is on her way." Yes Man's display screen flickered and changed to the grizzled soldier customary of the Securitron army and the robot moved into formation, blending in with his counterparts.

Denn nodded and rubbed his eyes gingerly, slipping on the glasses as carefully as he could. Returning one hand to his injured side, the Courier slouched forward and held his rebreather to his head.

The visual barrier of Securitrons split down the middle, revealing the approaching Colonel flanked by another pair of Securitrons. The woman's hard eyes glanced from the Courier to the prone General and back.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it," she said wearily, shaking her head and glaring at the fallen General. Collecting herself, the Coronel stood at attention. "On behalf of the NCR, I would like to apologize for-"

"The NCR will withdraw from the Mojave," the Courier interrupted her, and the Coronel's eyes widened with the proclamation.

"Withdraw?" she asked loudly, eyebrows creased in anger. "Like fucking hell we're withdrawing. We just spent four years protecting this dam! We didn't do that to let it go."

"The terms for this withdraw are stipulated in my message to your president," Denn stated, ignoring her outburst and gesturing behind the Coronel as ED-E approached. A hatch on the Robot's side opened and a stream of paper spilled out. The Coronel grabbed it and began to read.

"United Mojave?" Moore asked no one in particular. "What the hell does that mean? Oh, wait, here we go."

Moments passed in silence as the Coronel finished reading the document. "I've seen what your Securitrons can do," Moore said finally, turning her gaze to the Courier, "and my superior officer just committed what will probably be labeled as treason by Kimball in an effort to save his own skin, but that doesn't make this right. Four years we spent holding this dam – four years worth of NCR soldiers died for it. Remember that when you make your little world."

"Around eight Thousand Legion soldiers were killed today, Coronel," Denn answered, staring right back at the woman. "How many more NCR men and women would have died trying to hold them off? Remember that when your council debriefs you, and remember what defeated Caesar. I am not the NCR's enemy, even if you think I am."

The Courier nodded curtly to the Coronel and the Securitrons led the woman back to the NCR lines. Denn turned to Yes Man. "Take three quarter's of the Securitrons from the dam and escort the NCR to the Mojave Outpost," Denn ordered, beginning to walk towards Caesar's camp with Yes Man following along beside him. "Have them camp in the Canyon between Novac and the ruins of Nipton, near the abandoned ranger station. There's a deathclaw nest near there – hopefully they'll investigate and you can chase them off for the NCR. Make it as theatrical as you can.

"Give the soldiers enough time to gather enough supplies to make it to the border before you leave. Oh, and have a squad of Securitrons take Oliver to the Lucky 38. Put him in the honeymoon suite, that might help take his mind off his troubles."

"Righty'o!" Yes Man said happily. "By the way, the Fiends have just assaulted Camp McCarran, reports from Bitter Springs indicate the NCR there have been attacked by Cazadors, and it looks like the Brotherhood of Steel have taken HELIOS One!"

The Courier stopped, turning back to stare at the dam as the NCR troopers there milled about confusedly. "How the hell am I going to make this work?" he asked quietly, shaking his head.

"On the plus side," Yes Man continued, wheeling back and forth happily, "Camp Golf held, the Westside Hunters are already on their way to Bitter Springs, and I've taken the liberty of redirecting the Securitrons coming from New Vegas to contain the Fiends in McCarran."

The Courier laughed hollowly, putting a hand on Yes Man's shoulder and shaking his head. "That's how," he said, answering his earlier question himself as he smiled appreciatively behind his rebreather. "I'm not alone."

.

* * *

.

 **Shady Sands, NCR Capital, 150 miles west of New Vegas**

"Senator Peak? Senator Peak!"

The man turned, searching for the source of the voice in the chaotic environment. Squinting his eyes, he found it in his normally quiet aid, the woman beckoning towards him expressively from the other side of the room. Nodding to the other senators that stood around him, Senator Peak moved through the hectic crowd towards his aid.

"What is it, Lora?" he asked, finally reaching the excited woman.

"Kimball just called a meeting with his inner cabinet," Lora answered, glancing from side to side and pulling the senator away from the bustling assembly.

"Caesar's Legion has won then?" Peak asked, leadingly.

"I don't think so, sir," the aid said, flicking a few switches on her Pip-Boy. "I've been biggy-backing on the military's communications, and it seemed like the Courier had secured victory on his own. He had a Securitron army the size of two battalions stationed beneath the Fort that nobody knew about. Minutes ago, I intercepted two messages being sent on Kimball's private channel. One written, the other auditory." Quickly, Lora attached a small pair of headphones to her personal computer, holding them up for the Senator to take.

Peak glanced around and put the headphones on. The audio of the Courier's interaction with General Oliver began to play from the Pip-Boy, and as it did, Lora pulled up the text of the Courier's withdraw orders, turning the file upside down so the Senator could read it off her wrist.

Senator Peak's eyes widened as the drama unfolded, straining to hear the conversation over the din of the crowd behind him. His eyes shot up to meet those of his aid as he finished reading the message and she nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.

Peak bit his lip, pulling off the headphones as the recording finished. "Alright," he said, mind racing as he processed all that had just been revealed. His head shook side to side as multiple scenarios played out in his mind, before nodding as he found one acceptable. "Release this through our anonymous sources to the media. Don't give them the withdraw orders, though. Let's make Kimball admit to its existence to stop the general populace from rioting over the loss of water rights from the dam. Making water free but electricity eight caps per kilowatt-hour is genius – keeps the populace happy while putting the screws to-"

"Senator," Lora interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. "What about the mission?" Only then did Peak see the fear veiled in her excitement as she glanced at the crowd behind them – a crowd full of men and women who, if they knew of his and his aid's pasts, would happily see the both of them executed by a firing squad.

Peak placed his hand reassuringly on the woman's shoulder. "That mission is over, Lora," he said firmly, squeezing her slightly and nodding as the fear slowly left her eyes.

Lora nodded back, collecting herself and glancing down at her Pip-Boy. "What do I do after I leak the recording, sir?"

"Meet me back at my office," Peak answered, bringing his hand up to itch his nose. "Once the story hits the airwaves, we'll wait for some of the more reactionary senators to make a statement before releasing our own. We'll turn this defeat into a rallying cry for anti-expansion and stabilization. With luck, they'll end up impeaching Kimball and we can make it into the presidency even sooner than we expected."

"But sir," Lora began, her eyebrows creased in confusion, "you said the mission was over?"

" _That_ Mission, Lora," Peak replied, glancing back to the crowd behind him. "We still have the chance to help these people, whether they would ask for it or not."

Lora nodded in understanding and excused herself, making her way to the depths of the Council Building.

Senator Peak, or as he was known to Caesar's Legion, Judas, left the room as well, rubbing a secret pouch in his jacket as he did. He would have to dispose of the gold coin the compartment contained as quickly as possible – he no longer needed the daily reminder of his former leader from the east.

.

* * *

.

 **White Rock Canyon, 4 miles downriver from Hoover Dam**

"It is finished?"

"The firebombs fell an hour ago, Inculta. If Lanius did not perish in the bombardment, he was most likely finished off by the Courier's steel soldiers."

"Did you see his machines? Did you see them fight?"

"Yes, Inculta, before I made my way to the river."

"And?"

"They are death. They shrugged off anything Caesar and the Legate threw against them. Their cannons of light tore through flesh and set cloth to flame – entities of Tartarus, carrying its fire."

"I see..."

Inculta's blade pierced the man's heart before his next breath left his body. The soldier stared at the Frumentarii leader in confusion, before his eyes rolled up into his skull and its unending darkness.

"He must die?"

"He would talk – tell others what he saw. I could not allow that. The Courier must kill more than Caesar's men to defeat the Legion; he must destroy Caesar's legend. Lead your men East. We must intercept the survivors the Courier sends to spread the tales of his power."

"Stopping the stories does nothing to stop the power of the man. Caesar learned this with his damnation of Malpais' name."

"I am not punishing men for speaking; I am killing them before they can. Control what the Legion knows, and we will control the Legion."

"… We're with you, Inculta."

"For the Legion. Kill every survivor you meet. I will see our strength re-forged, even if it is by the fires of Tartarus."

.

* * *

.

 **Mt. Wilson, 6 miles East from Caesar's Camp**

"This 'Courier' seems to have exceeded our projections neatly! Even outfitting the Legion tribals with advanced weaponry failed to change the outcome of the battle, and his handling of the NCR? Inspired. We will have to redouble our efforts, agreed? … Of course, come along then, 216."

.

* * *

.

 **This chapter marks the major conclusion to the intro, and when I completed it, I realized just how much story I have left.**

 **I promise that this story has an ending, but we've got a hell of a long way to go to get there.**

 **Years, even, in universe time (maybe even real time)**

 _"Things were always going to get worse before they got better."_


	13. Chapter 12 - The Fort I

_**.**_

 _ **October 23rd, 2281, 10:03 a.m.**_

 _"AIGHHHH! KILL IT! KILL IT!"_

 _Smashing glass, rushing plasma, a pulse of exhilaration as the prey beneath him burst into flame. Running now – flying away – the shadows embracing him as one of their own._

 _"Is it gone?"_

 _"Don't you watch the old horror vids? There is no way we killed it. It's here; trust me."_

 _" [*$$...]$ ... [#-!-#] !"_

 _"Quiet, 8. Shhhhh. Come out little teddy bear; I'm only going to rip your stuffing out."_

 _"Guess we can go back to our rooms and lock the doors now, right?"_

 _"There is no movement I can detect – not even a mouse. I believe we misplaced our test subje-"_

 _Falling, impact, fist crashing through glass. Screams, plasma fire, feral eyes and grinning teeth reflecting the final sparks of his dying victim. Two remain. Two remain. Two remain. A weight presses down upon him._

Denn reached up and seized the mechanical hand resting on his shoulder while simultaneously unsheathing his machete. A blaring claxon ripped the last of the vision from his mind. The Securitron before him made no movement – did not respond to the potential attack in any way beyond its booming siren.

Denn shook his head, letting his weapon slide back into its sheath. "How long was I out?"

"Unknown," the Securitron replied. The gruff soldier plastered on its display screen flickered slightly. "You came within sight of the camp and did not progress any further. Yes Man indicated he left you five minutes before, and directed this unit to intercept. Potential timeframe of pseudo-consciousness: one to five minutes. Gannon's recommendation stands that you allow your physical body rest and put your automatic systems on-"

"I know his recommendation," the Courier said hurriedly. "I lack the time to implement it. Access primary systems; override code Alpha-Yankee-Kilo-09152." Denn stepped forward as the Securtrion's display screen went blank and opened a small panel near the robot's faceplate. Pulling out a long cable, the Courier attached it to his Pip-Boy and began to flick through the Securitron's systems. "You will stay within three yards of my person and serve as an uplink to the eyebot network. Confirm."

A large checkmark appeared on the Securitron's display screen before blinking away. The Courier stepped past the Securitron and walked towards the Legion camp, the machine following closely after.

A pair of Securitrons stood at the entrance of the fort. Denn cast his gaze across the encampment's outer wall and the additional Securitrons spaced every thirty yards along it. Satisfied with the display, he turned his attention inward and began to process the incredible amounts of information ED-E and the other eyebots around the Mojave were sending him. Walking stiffly, the Courier automatically made his way through the carnage of the Legion's main camp.

Red Lucy was about to engage the cazador swarm, the NCR were uniformly pulling back from their outposts, and the Fiends had taken McCarran. Luckily, the raider group seemed content to rest on their laurels. The Great Khans would keep them drugged up enough to prevent them from fortifying the NCR's main base, hopefully. As he finished catching up on the status of the Mojave, the Courier realized he had reached Caesar's inner encampment.

The raised fortification had been saved from the razing the rest of the camp had suffered. As Denn walked through the entrance, he was greeted by a power-armored gauntlet snapping out before him.

"Johnson?" the Remnant soldier asked, his faceplate directly facing the Courier.

"Lanius ambushed us and killed him," Denn answered, his right hand reaching up and pulling off the sunglasses Yes Man had given him earlier, revealing his battered face. "Stabbed his sword through the gap between the neck and chest."

The Remnant remained still for a moment, before lowering his arm. "He was a self-righteous, bleeding-hearted bastard, but he was a good man," the soldier said quietly. "He died with his armor on; I think he would have appreciated that."

"What about you?" the Courier asked, slipping the glasses into his duster. "Looking to join him?"

"Dying was all I had left before you talked me into this campaign. Nothing better to do, so I guess I'll just start waiting for that again."

"Don't be too sure. I may have some work for you still, if you're interested."

"War's over; what use do you have for an old man who's only ever done one thing with his life?"

"Teach others to do that one thing."

"Hah! I told Judah you wouldn't be content with just the Securitrons. Looking to make your own army, huh?"

"Oh yes. One that can match the best of the NCR, man-to-man."

"Might want to set your sights a bit higher. Those cotton-shit troopers wouldn't last a day without those Rangers backing them up, and even they are invested a little too heavily in the mythos of war instead of the reality of it."

"I can't think of anybody better to give soldiers a lesson or two in reality. Are you interested?"

"You plan to keep the NCR out of the Mojave?"

"They'll have to pull it from my cold dead hands if they want it."

"Anything I can do to stuff it to those bastards is a blessing. I'll help train your army, just tell me when and where."

"Still working out the logistics of both, but I'll keep you in the know."

"Don't wait too long, I'm not exactly too far off from passing whether I want to or not."

The Courier nodded and stepped past the soldier, making his way to a large tent ED-E had informed him the rest of the Remnants and his companions were waiting. Pushing open the tent's flap, he was greeted by a one-handed bear hug.

"Oliver shot you. Why did he shoot you?" Veronica asked, her words heavily slurred.

"Stimpack wore off huh?" Denn asked, supporting Veronica as she leaned onto him. "Henry give you something for the pain?"

"Yes boss. Good stuff, funny colors. Cass is ok, sleeping still," Veronica rambled, leaning back and squinting her eyes at the Courier's face. "You got the _shit_ kicked out of you," she stated bluntly.

"You should see the other guy," Denn said, his eyes tired. Stepping into the tent, the Courier helped Veronica take a seat on one of the makeshift cots within.

"I told her she should get some rest," Doctor Henry stated, shaking his head as he finished cleaning Cass' wound. "But after she saw that spectacle on your Securitron over there, she wouldn't stop talking."

"I couldn't not talk. If I didn't talk, I'd sleep, and if I slept, he'd get shot again," Veronica argued, turning and pointing angrily at the Courier. "You let anybody else shoot you, and I'm not letting you leave the Lucky 38 for at least a month."

"Alright, alright," Denn stated, holding his hands up defensively. "I promise not to let anybody else shoot me unless they really want to."

"Damn right," Veronica said, her eyelids drooping as her resistance to the doctor's pain meds slowly waned with the Courier's half-acquiescence. Denn helped the woman lie down, and slipped a threadbare blanket over her.

"You did let him shoot you, though," a voice stated from behind the Courier.

"Yes," Denn answered, squeezing the sleeping raven-haired woman's forearm and rising to face the leader of the Remnants. Judah Kreger stared at him, his eyes hard.

"I get wanting to keep the NCR military out of the Mojave," Judah said. The Officer's voice was low and controlled, yet the Courier could sense the anger boiling just beneath the surface. "But why keep us in the dark? I lost another soldier under my command today, and it turns out he didn't even know that in the end he was fighting against the NCR? Johnson only supported this mission because we were fighting for them and not the Legion."

"He died under my command, Judah," Denn stated, meeting the Remnant leader's eyes. "His life is on my hands, not yours. I told him my intentions before we went into the camp; I have the audio recording if you want it. He knew I intended to keep the NCR out of the Mojave and he knew why. He still fought for me against the Legate. The NCR is failing under its current leadership. If I let them take the Mojave, they would drag it down with them. I won't let that happen."

Judah frowned at the Courier, gauging the man's words against what had transpired. "You goaded Oliver into shooting you," the Remnant declared. "You didn't just let it happen, you intended for him to attack you."

"My entire approach to the assault was meant to make Oliver look as bad as possible," Denn admitted. "From the public statements offering aid beforehand, to the handling of his soldiers during the battle, I was trying to aggravate him into making a mistake. Getting him to personally attack me was the best possible scenario, but I had prepared for many eventualities. I knew if I pushed him hard enough he'd lash out at me. I'm lucky he chose to do so on his own and not with his army."

"You're lucky, or they're lucky?"

"Both. The NCR would not have been able to withstand my Securitrons, but slaughtering their soldiers would have made peace unstable at best and impossible at worst."

"So your best-case scenario was getting shot? Doesn't sound like much of a best-case scenario to me."

Denn shrugged. "Anyone I walk away from, I call a win. Not the first time I've been shot and its likely not to be my last; at least this time it was intentional and not because of a misstep or a mistake."

Judah shook his head, reaching up his hand to rub his eyes wearily. "Hell of a risk, no matter how you try to justify it. Oliver wasn't wrong, you know. There's not much of a line of succession in New Vegas, should you be killed. This whole plan of yours hinges on your survival, and much like the Legion, if you fall, New Vegas falls."

"You're right, but unlike Caesar, I don't think I'm a god."

The roar of a Vertibird's dual rotors suddenly roared from outside, blowing the tent flap inward. Denn glanced behind him with surprise. Judah smiled slightly and moved past the Courier and out of the tent.

"How the hell is that vehicle invisible to my Eyebots?" Denn asked loudly, following after Kreger and shielding his eyes from the sandstorm the airship had whipped up.

"Eyebots are based on Enclave tech," Judah answered, with a hint of pride in his voice. "Even if you've modified them to hell and back, there's still kinks in the system. Daisy knows how to take advantage of those kinks; it's how she kept from being court-martialed back in our military days."

"I need you, Judah," the Courier said, his voice only just carrying over the roar of the Vertibird. "The Mojave needs you."

"I know," the Remnant officer replied, turning his gaze from the airship to the man standing beside him. "But I'm still not convinced." Judah began lowering his voice as the Vertibird's rotors slowly died down. "You show me you're looking to do good for the Mojave, and this isn't some totalitarian power-play, and I'll help you. Until then, I won't be a part of it. I'll not stop any of the others from lending their aid; they'll probably be more than willing. Henry sees you as his next project, Moreno would jump at another chance to stick it to the NCR, and if you keep letting Daisy fly, she'd likely do anything you'd ask."

"If she has the want, I'll supply her the energy she needs. There's a group just as interested in flying as she is, maybe even more so."

"I highly doubt that," a gravely voice stated. Denn turned to the Vertibird and saw an elderly woman move down the walkway, a pilot's helmet held loosely in one hand. "Damn it feels good to be in the air again."

"The Courier is wondering how you're hiding from his Eyebots, Daisy," Judah said loudly, smiling widely as Denn walked forward and shook the sun-touched woman's hand solidly.

"Is he now? Well, if he's a good boy, maybe I'll tell him when he's older," Daisy quipped, patting the Courier on the shoulder and stepping forward to give her commanding officer a stiff salute, followed by a tight embrace.

"It's good to see you flying again," Judah said happily, brushing the hair out of the old woman's eyes.

"You best be careful, Judah" Daisy warned, her eyes twinkling happily. "We aren't exactly spring chickens anymore, but if you keep talking like that, I'm bound to break a hip or two." The old woman laughed gaily as her commanding officer's eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment while the Courier coughed awkwardly. The elderly pilot stepped away, veritably skipping across the ground to the tent Henry and his patients were occupying.

Judah's gaze followed her, shaking his head while his mouth turned upwards in a crooked smile. He glanced back to the Courier and his eyes hardened slightly. "You be good to her," he stated.

"I won't ask her to fly combat missions," Denn said, crossing his arms behind him and inspecting the silent airship before him. "The Boomers want nothing more than to fly, and if she'll teach them, they'll join the rest of the Mojave."

"When were you playing on asking her?"

"I already did; she said yes. She also said it would probably be best if you didn't know about it till after the battle, and since she knows you better than I do; I agreed."

"I've lost one of my family already, Courier. I know it was his choice, but you'll understand if I withhold my support for the time being."

"I understand," Denn said quietly. Silence settled between the two men as Moreno loudly began carrying equipment onto the landed airship. The Courier finally spoke, "I would appreciate it if you'd take my wounded to the Lucky 38 after you pick up Johnson."

"Glad to," Judah replied. "That Brotherhood girl packs a hell of a punch; you're lucky she's on your side."

"I'm lucky they all are," Denn stated. The Courier nodded to the Remnant officer and moved deeper into Caesar's camp, his Securitron following closely behind him. As Judah turned away, a slight shimmer appeared behind the Courier and began to trail after him.

.

* * *

.

 **Camp McCarran, 6 miles South of New Vegas**

" _Kur-o-nel_ Hsu! My, my, my… you certainly don't look happy to see me."

"Motor-Runner… you're supposed to be dead."

The Fiend's fist slammed against the NCR Colonel's chin, sending the kneeling man falling to the ground.

"That's just what I wanted you to think you yellow waste of dirt! Knew that after you sic'd your Courier _dog_ on my other commanders that I'd be next. Set up that asshole Little Buster to take my helmet and claim the kill. Since then, I've just been waiting for my time, and wow, would you look at that? My time is now."

The fiend leader drove his foot into Hsu's gut and then kicked the man onto his back. Straddling the NCR commander, he began to slam his fists into the officer's face. Hsu made no sound as the raider assaulted him.

"I was told you'd be a tough son-of a bitch, Hsu. Luckily, I brought a chainsaw. Duke! Get some straps in here and wrap 'em around his arms and legs."

"My Fiend," a demure voice all but whispered from the far side of the room. Motor-Runner froze, his head turning slowly towards the source of the voice.

The speaker was short, with blonde hair just long enough to cover her dark brown eyes. What little clothing she wore was impossibly tight and followed her every curve intimately, leaving only the important features to the viewer's imagination. She sauntered forward, her gaze locked with the leader of the Fiends as the man rose, completely forgetting the officer below him.

Reaching up, the woman wrapped her hands in Motor-Runner's wild hair and pulled him down to meet his lips with her own. Roughly, she bit his lower lip and tugged it towards her. Stepping onto Colonel Hsu's chest, the petite woman rose higher and violently drew the Fiend leader's head to the side, bringing her lips to the man's ear and gnawing on his lobe. "Let me have him," the succubus whispered quietly, grazing her teeth against the neck of the man helpless to stop her.

"W-who?" Motor-Runner asked blearily, finding it difficult to think clearly over the heated stimuli.

"The Colonel," the woman cooed, running her hand down the Fiend's chest and scratching against his taught stomach.

"Wh-" Motor-Runner began before groaning as the woman sunk her teeth into his neck.

"He was responsible for Bitter Springs," the woman answered the unasked question while letting her hand on the man's stomach wander further South. "My family… _Our_ family needs to be avenged. Let me have him."

The man groaned and then yelped, the woman's southern embrace tightening and her teeth once again sinking into his neck. "Alright! Alright!" Motor-Runner relented, pushing the woman away and holding her at arms length. The leader of the Fiends glared around at the other men in the room. The raiders milled about awkwardly, all of them doing their best to keep the evidence of their reactions towards the beautiful woman faced away from their leader. "He's yours."

"Thank you, my Fiend," the woman whispered. Reaching up, she kissed him almost reverently for a few moments before suddenly pushing him away and whistling shrilly. Two Great Khans entered the room and moved forward to pick up the Colonel.

"Save me the leftovers, love. My dogs are hungry!" Motor-Runner said gaily, running his hands through his hair and pacing back and forth as the woman left the room. "You have fun now, Hsu! Though, I bet you would've preferred my company than my misses'. She does have a way with knives." Motor-Runner laughed manically as the NCR officer was pulled out of the room and the other Fiends joined in his revelry.

Colonel Hsu spit blood out of his mouth as the two Great Khan's carried him across the McCarran lobby. "I wasn't responsible for Bitter Springs," he stated quietly.

The woman stopped and turned back towards the NCR officer. Leaning down, she stared the man in the eyes and ran a hand along his chin. "I know," she whispered, releasing his face and backhanding him viciously. "Take him to the cells," the woman ordered, turning away from the Khans and walking deeper into the captured NCR base.

The dazed NCR Colonel shook his head, and as he passed the entrance to the modified airport, saw another pair of Great Khans carrying in a large crate. A series of cheers greeted their arrival, and a sizeable group of Fiends crowded the newly arrived drug-runners looking to get their fix.

Colonel Hsu's eyes narrowed, and he glanced up at the Great Khans carrying him. The men's faces were almost unreadable, but Hsu could sense tension hidden in the raider's expressions. Motor-Runner's words repeated through the Colonel's mind as he let himself be dragged to the NCR's fortified detention block.

.

* * *

.

 **Bitter Springs, 19 miles North-East of Camp Golf**

"They're too fast!" an NCR soldier screamed as he emptied his service rifle at the approaching swarm of orange and black insects. One of the massive creatures dove towards him and latched onto his back, driving its six-inch stinger into his side. The NCR soldier screamed, the fire of the cazador's poison crashing through his veins. He tried to lash out against the gigantic insect, but his muscles refused to respond as he fell to the ground. Gunshots and screams reverberated around him, but the soldier was lost to the world as the searing heat bombarded his nervous system until he lost consciousness.

Silence began to spread over the NCR camp, interrupted only occasionally by bright orange wings beating the air angrily. The cazadors began to lay their eggs.

A rifle shot erupted in the distance and one of the creatures ruptured into an explosion of green vital-fluid and black chitin. As one, the swarm of cazadors turned towards their new attacker.

A single woman stood in the distance, her duster blowing back behind her in the slight breeze. Setting her rifle on the ground, she un-slung a shotgun from over her shoulder and chambered a round into it loudly. Whistling shrilly, Red Lucy dared the cazadors to attack her.

The insects obliged, and the sound of their wings roared through the air as thirty of the giant creatures leaped into the sky. The swarm closed impossibly fast on Red Lucy – death and pain promised by the horrific drone of their flight. The woman remained tall and defiant, her only action to brace the shotgun against her shoulder and take aim at the closest of the creatures.

As the swarm flew within thirty yards of their target, twin streams of flame erupted from the earth below them. Two Westside hunters outfitted with flamethrowers stepped forward from their hiding places behind rock formations, fanning their weapons in front of them in a crisscrossing arc.

The cazador swarm hit the wall of fire at full speed. Carried by their momentum, the creatures quickly passed through the man-made firestorm, but the burning fuel tenaciously clung to their exoskeletons and wings, forcing them to the ground.

The creature at the front of the formation had been spared the worst of the firewall, and charged furiously at Red Lucy. The leader of the Thorn's eyes blazed with the reflection of the raging fire before her and an inner satisfaction at the success of her ambush. Calmly, she pressed the trigger of her shotgun back.

The weapon roared and flaming buckshot exploded out of its barrel, enveloping the cazador before it in the modern-day equivalent of Dragon fire. The blazing magnesium pellets embedded themselves into the cazador and covered it in a raging inferno. Stepping to the side, Red Lucy let the flaming monstrosity fly past her and crash into the ground with a resounding thud. Pulling out a long knife, she calmly stalked the writhing insect as it desperately tried to crawl away from her.

In all the other creatures she had encountered, she was able to find fear – the terror all living things shared when their life was almost over. She couldn't see it in the cazador. All she saw was hate, even as her knife pierced its armored skull.

Red Lucy frowned. This reaction wasn't natural, it was taught. Cazadors were the most vicious creatures she had ever come across, attacking without provocation and seemingly without reason. They implanted their victims with eggs, yes, but more often then not the cazador's poison killed the host long before the young could hatch, denying them a viable food supply and causing them to waste away. Every other creature she had encountered existed as a part of the natural order, either as a hunter or as prey.

Cazadors existed only to kill.

"Leader?" a voice asked from behind her.

Red Lucy turned, her frown disappearing as she observed the remaining hunters disposing of the cazador swarm. "Begin salvaging poison glands and brewing additional anti-venom," she ordered. Moving past the man who had addressed her, the leader of the Thorn made her way to the NCR caravan. "Use what supply we have ready on those NCR closest to death." The woman stopped over a scorched creature and turned back to the silent hunter.

"See how long you can keep their eggs alive."


	14. Chapter 13 - The Fort II

**_._**

 ** _October 23rd, 2281, 10:15 a.m._**

There were close to three hundred of them, by the Courier's count. The slaves of the Legion. They met Denn's gaze in silence, standing to the side of Caesar's tent. Clothed in tattered garments with red crosses painted across their chests, these women and children had served as the backbone of Caesar's Legion, supplying his army with food, medical care, and even more soldiers.

Yet, there were only three hundred standing by their master's tent. Keeping the Legion combat ready would have taken thousands more. The rest must have perished in his bombing of the Fort and the Legate's camp.

Eight thousand Legionaries, and how many innocents? _Just how many people did you murder today?_

"Wait here," the Courier ordered, detaching the cable from his Pip-Boy and letting it slide back into the Securitron that was escorting him. Moving forward, he lifted the flap of Caesar's tent to the side and glanced into the structure. The center courtyard was open to the sun, but the side alcoves of the makeshift building were covered in darkness. A lone man was kneeling before Caesar's empty throne.

As he held the entry open, he felt more than heard a presence slip past him. He smiled – Lily was still keeping an eye on him.

Silently, the Courier moved into the tent and approached Caesar's throne and the man kneeling before it. Stepping into the courtyard, he crossed his arms behind his back and waited.

"You were always a tool to him," the stooped man declared, wearily pushing up from the ground and standing. "A hammer or a blade, depending on the situation, but never more than that." The man turned to face the Courier, his eyes dark. "Would that he had listened to my council and fed you to the dogs the moment you came before him."

"He would still be dead," Denn said, his voice cold.

"His death is his victory!"

"The victory of fading away in his bed while his army burned?"

"Caesar yet lives!"

"Oh, he does? As what? A god? Or does he live in the hearts of his soldiers? Most did not die with the pride of Caesar in their hearts, but terror. Caesar is gone, whether you accept it or not."

"He is infinitely more than you will ever-"

"How much did he cry, Lucius? When the time came and his mind crumbled, how much did he weep? Did you muffle his cries as best you could to keep his weakness from being discovered? How far did you go to preserve the strength of your god? Did you kill him yourself to keep his whimpers-"

"Enough!" Lucius screamed, charging the Courier.

Uncrossing his arms from behind him, Denn revealed an intricately carved 9mm pistol resting in his right hand. Almost lazily, the Courier fired the gun twice, sending one bullet into the center of Lucius' neck and the other through his jaw. The leader of the Praetorians fell the ground, clutching his devastated face. The shadows of the camp exploded with four Legionaries who followed their leader's example and charged the seemingly alone Courier.

Another two shells ripped into separate Legionaries' knees and forced them to the ground, but the remaining two leaped at their target in unison, their machetes swinging down ferociously.

Lily materialized between the Legion soldiers and the Courier with a burst of static and a rush of white energy. Seizing the two Legionaries before they could react, she effortlessly slammed them into one another, letting them fall dazedly to the ground.

Reloading his firearm, the Courier moved past Lily to stand above Lucius. The Praetorian leader clutched his neck, desperately trying to stem the flow of his lifeblood. With eyes full of hate, the last remaining Legion commander stared up at his attacker.

"Benny says hi," Denn said humorlessly, before emptying his firearm into Lucius' skull. The corpse fell to the ground and silence fell upon the tent.

"They're just boys," Lily said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Courier turned, and saw the super mutant staring down at the two Legionaries. The soldiers, for their part, met her gaze with confusion and terror. Neither of them looked to be older than fourteen, and this was probably the first time they had encountered a super mutant.

"Most of Caesar's army was," Denn said quietly, turning his gaze over the maimed soldiers who had just attacked him. All four of them were young, probably still too immature to be considered full Legionaries, which would explain what they were doing here instead of on the battlefield – why they were in pain rather than corpses seared clean of flesh. Moving towards one of them, the Courier easily caught the young man's desperate swing and turned his weapon against him, holding it against the soldier's throat. "Tell me, what comes next?" Denn asked, his voice cold and detached.

The Legionary stared up at the Courier and set his lips together – his eyes growing defiant in what he thought where his final moments.

"Let me guess; I slit your throat and steal your soul to power my machines, while the remainder of your comrades serve to feed my insatiable appetite?"

The soldier refused to answer. Pushing him to the ground, the Courier shook his head and let the machete fall from his hand. "It was inevitable one day you would learn of mercy," he said quietly as the soldier looked up at him in confusion, "but it's a hollow lesson coming from me."

Denn shook his head, realizing he was talking more to himself than the Legion Soldier. "Get them out of here," he said to Lily, gesturing to the entrance of the tent. "See if the slaves they kept will care for them." Not waiting for a response, he cautiously stepped into Caesar's chamber.

Caesar lay still before him. His skin was pale and a smear of dried vomit stained his mouth and cheek. The stench of death permeated the small room.

Unceremoniously, Denn drew his machete and stepped forward. Swinging the weapon down, he severed Caesar's head from his body and picked it up by what little hair it held. The Courier stepped back into the courtyard just as Lily finished gently pushing the Legionaries out of the makeshift building.

Tossing the decapitated head onto the empty throne, Denn moved to one of the side alcoves of the tent. The Courier scanned the tables that were haphazardly covered with maps and written orders within the small side-room.

Inculta wasn't here. The Frumentarii had likely abandoned Lanius once Caesar had died, and would have most certainly disposed of anything important pertaining to tactical information on the Legion. Still, he had to make sure nothing had been left behind. The East was still powerful, even without Caesar. He had to keep the remainder of the Legion unstable.

Folding up the maps and collecting the loose papers, Denn wrapped them into a tight roll and secured the collection with a piece of string resting on the table. Stepping into the sunlight, the Courier scanned the sky until he located ED-E. Signaling the flying robot, he waited as the machine whirred down towards him, trilling happily as it did so.

Reaching up to ED-E's cargo compartment, the Courier slipped the maps and orders inside. "Take these back to the Lucky 38, ED-E. Make sure Gannon takes a look at them right away," Denn said. The robot whined and the Courier placed his hand reassuringly on the machine's chassis. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. The other eyebots will keep an eye on me."

ED-E trilled morosely, reluctant to take its leave of its companion, but it followed Denn's command and shot into the air, causing a wave of dust to billow around the Courier. Denn followed its flight as the boisterous robot disappeared into the empty blue sky.

As his gaze returned to the earth, a dull ache began to throb down his spine. The Courier shook his head, and the movement brought a pang of agony from his devastated mouth. The pain of his continued existence was beginning to resurface, and his supply of Med-X was exhausted.

The roar of a Vertibird erupted from outside of the tent as the Remnant airship rose quickly into the sky. Denn sighed and turned back to the throne, again picking up the decapitated skull. As he did so, the Vertibird passed directly overhead and blew a heavy cloth draped across the throne to the ground. As it fell, the Courier noticed a glint of metal fall with it.

Kneeling down to pick up the fabric, Denn shook out the material until a small, coin-shaped object dropped out of it and fell to the ground, stabbing into the dirt. Incredibly thin, the metal was featureless and completely smooth besides a small hook that had been used to latch it into the heavy cloth. Picking up the coin, the Courier was surprised by the weight of it. As he hefted the mysterious metal, the device suddenly glowed white hot, forcing Denn to drop it or be scorched. Burning away in a cloud of black smoke, the coin was gone in seconds; the burnt dirt the only sign that it had existed.

He and Inculta weren't the only ones invested in the future of the Legion, the Courier reminded himself as he stood, eyebrows creased in thought. Someone had outfitted the brutal army with technology – weapons rarely seen even in the relatively advanced NCR.

The weapons themselves weren't even useful against the NCR army stationed at the dam. The cannibalized power armor the Heavy Troopers used were the only viable target of pulse technology, and even they would only lose their cooling systems with the servos and hydraulics of the armor removed. Vertibirds were too valuable to the NCR to risk on frontline missions, and the supply trucks of the military were so rudimentary that pulse technology would be nothing but a hindrance.

No, the weapons were meant to be used against his Securitrons – and himself. Whoever had outfitted the Legion knew what he was, and now the Legion knew what he was.

How long until the NCR discovered it?

"Immaterial," the Courier whispered, hefting Caesar's head and moving to the tent's exit. He stepped through it and handed the Legion leader's skull to the Securitron that had escorted him earlier. Absentmindedly, Denn again pulled the cable out of the robot and attached it to his Pip-Boy. _You have to tell your companions what you are, before they find out from somebody else._

"Courier," a voice said to his side.

Denn turned and saw two of the Legion slaves standing a few yards away. One was young with calloused hands and refused to meet the Courier's gaze. The other was older, with dark blonde hair stained with streaks of white. A pair of deep, identical scars ran up from the sides of chin up over her mouth, before ending at the corners of her eyes. The injuries were long healed, but seemed to be ritualistic in nature, rather than wounds of battle. She stared at the Courier unwaveringly, her dark green eyes boring into his own.

Denn's mouth opened unconsciously behind his rebreather as a weight settled into the pit of his stomach.

The older woman's eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed together tightly. After a moment of silence, she began to gesture purposefully with her hands, fluidly transitioning from sign to sign. As she did, the woman beside her began to speak, translating the many signs into spoken word.

"We have heard the stories – of what you are and what you are capable of. We have seen your machines and the fire they possess as our sisters and children perished in their attack. What will you do with us now, Courier?"

Denn took a moment to send a series of orders through the Eyebot network, using the distraction to collect himself. Finally, he cleared his throat and met the older woman's gaze. "Once the NCR have been removed from the Dam, you will be transferred there to care for the wounded until it is safe to move you to Freeside," the Courier began quietly. "The Followers of the Apocalypse have offered to help anybody displaced by the war, and that offer is extended to you."

The young woman remained silent as her older counterpart seemed to take in the Courier's words. Again, the woman began to shift her hands to form intricate symbols and the translator relayed their meaning to the Courier.

"If we refuse, will we be free to go?"

"I'm afraid that is impossible. Until the Legion is incapable of doing the Mojave harm, I cannot risk the chance that you would be captured and reveal important tactical information."

"We would never allow ourselves to be taken again – we will never return to the Legion."

"Can you guarantee they would take none of you alive?"

"No."

"Then I cannot allow it."

"So we are your prisoners?"

"Unfortunately, that is an apt description. The Followers will care for you, but you will not be free."

"We will not trade one master for another."

Denn fell silent, his gaze falling on the group of slaves behind the two women. He spotted movement behind one slave's legs, and saw a small girl peak around them, a frayed teddy bear clenched tightly to her torso. The child realized she had been spotted, and darted back behind the older slave. The Courier smiled sadly behind his rebreather.

"You know little of who I am," he said finally, locking his eyes with those of the older woman, "and I lack the time to prove to you the sincerity of my words, but know this: I will never treat you as Caesar treated you. Within the Mojave, you will be free to do as you will, and I will do everything in my power to keep harm from befalling you. I have a debt to the innocents I killed in my attack – your sisters and children. I will do anything to see that dept repaid.

"I cannot promise you the Mojave will be perfect; I cannot promise that none of you will be hurt, but I can promise you that you are under my protection now. I will bleed – and die if I must – to keep you safe."

The younger slave glanced up at the Courier, her eyes wide, before returning her gaze to the older woman's hands. The elder nodded silently, her shoulder's slouched wearily, and began to sign.

"Many have died today, but the lives they lived were half what they should have been. You promise to protect us? Then promise to let us choose how we will live."

"For what worth it has to you, you have my word," Denn said quietly, bowing to the older woman.

She nodded in response, and turned back to the group of slaves.

"A moment?" the Courier asked loudly, causing the woman to stop and face him. "What is your name?"

The translator glanced up from the older woman's hands to her face. The woman returned her gaze and nodded.

"Mira," the translator said.

Denn's eyebrows creased, and he looked to the dirt as if searching for the right words. "You are Ursus' mother," he stated finally, looking back up at Mira.

The older woman glanced at her translator, and Denn saw a flash of hope behind her eyes. Her hand formed a fist and made a slight rocking motion, up and down.

"Yes," the translator said.

Denn shook his head, and he as he did, saw the hope disappear from her eyes. "He's dead," he said quietly.

Mira's eyes shot to the dirt and her back straightened as if she had been struck. Her hands made a single, curt motion.

"How?"

"By my hands, within the Dam," Denn answered truthfully.

The older woman's eyes met his and the Courier could all but feel the rage that was carried through her expression. The anger dissipated almost immediately, replaced by gated indifference. Forcefully, her hands raced through the air.

"Take me to him."

"The NCR are still…"

"No. Take me to him, now."

"As you will," the Courier relented; waiting as the translator quickly ran to the group of slaves and talked to them earnestly for a moment. Finishing relating what had transpired, she ran back to the Courier and the older woman. Denn nodded, and gestured for the two women to follow after him and his Securitron escort.

.

* * *

.

The blood had long since dried, painting the metal wall with a rusted sheen. Her son – her last surviving family – lay before her in pieces. Mira sat on her heels, one hand resting on her deceased son's thigh. Her eyes were locked onto his face, looking past the vicious shrapnel wounds to the man she knew rested there.

"I'm sorry," a voice said behind her, and she shook her head. Releasing her son's leg, she gestured though the air helplessly.

"Not your fault," the translator said, the young woman acting as her spoken voice. "I refused to believe you could defeat Caesar's army. The man was dying. With his death the Legion would have lasted a few short years, then fallen. We could have escaped.

"I did not listen to my son when he spoke of you," the woman continued, signing as tears began to fall from her eyes. "I couldn't believe you were real. I had lost everything to Caesar; I wasn't ready to lose my son to you. I told him to fight, to win. Let Lanius have his victory so we could at last be free the Legion.

"It was finally working. He was finally dying – years of work, years of sacrifice. Every night he took me, I hid a radiation generator within my clothes, and as he rested, I activated it. I…" the translator stuttered, her eyes growing wide as her mouth fell open in surprise. She shook her head and talked quickly as she caught up with the kneeling woman's signing. "I killed him. I killed Caesar. He took my husband, my sons, and my body from me, but I had my revenge. I was so close to succeeding; I could see no other path. I did not listen…"

The interpreter fell quiet as the older woman stopped signing – stopped moving entirely. The young woman glanced at the Courier before resting a hand on Mira's shoulder.

Denn felt another hand mirror the translator's as Lily provided the Courier with silent support from behind. He wanted to say something, anything. _He was a good man. Without him, I wouldn't be alive. He loved you._ Anything he said would just make the pain worse, however. Ursus had died fighting for what he believed in. Not his master, not his nation, but his mother.

 _He died fighting for her._ _I killed him for fighting for her_ , the Courier thought helplessly.

 _You killed him for fighting for Caesar,_ a cold voice responded from within. _Whatever his mother's intentions, had Ursus been victorious, hundreds of thousands could have been killed in his campaign. The Mojave would be under Lanius' heel, and the rest of your friends would be dead. You had no choice._

One life I know for the thousands I don't?

 _In the end, it was his choice. It's not your fault anymore than it was his, or hers. We all choose how we live, and how we die. She chose to sacrifice thousands for her son, was that decision wrong?_

The Courier shook his head and sighed, turning out of Lily's grasp to walk out of the room. Heading for the Dam's exit, Denn mentally prepared himself for the journey to Camp McCarran. It was his choice to become the Mojave's protector, and only a few more factions stood in his way.

.

* * *

.

 ** _10:54 a.m. HELIOS One, 22 miles Southwest of Hoover Dam_**

"Commander Hardin!"

"What is it, Sato?"

"NCR reinforcements spotted, approaching from the North."

"How many?"

Sato shook his head as if he had difficulty expressing himself.

 _"How many,_ Paladin?"

"Sir! It appears to be the entirety of the vehicles stationed at Hoover Dam and Boulder City, sir!"

Hardin blanched, the color draining from his face hidden as it was behind his helmet. The NCR were supposed to be stretched impossibly thin, even with the Courier's help. To mobilize their entire mechanized detachment to retake HELIOS One so quickly was…

"There's more, sir," Sato said quietly. "Securitrons are escorting them. They're still far away, but the scouts estimate the machine's number to exceed three hundred."

"Get the Scribes and the Knights out of here," Hardin ordered, turning away from Sato to face the Paladins who served as his Captains. "We'll cover their escape. I won't let this become another Operation Sunburst. No laying traps. We are leaving as fast as we came in here."

"Sir," one of the Paladins said, gated anger apparent in his voice. "It was your idea to take this plant."

"And we did, and once the Courier stretches his forces too thin, we'll take it again. We could hold against the NCR, but those Securitrons would roll right up to us and turn our forces into ash. We don't have the fortifications prepared to face them."

"So we turn tail and run?"

"You are dismissed, _Paladin_. Go with the Knights and Scribes to the bunker, and if you give me any more lip, I will strike you from the codex myself."

"Sir, apologies, sir!"

"Good. Now, let's get our people out of here."

.

* * *

.

 **Vault 19, 20 miles Southwest of New Vegas**

"Son of a bitch… he actually did it…"

"So what's the plan, boss? We takin' him up on his offer… or do we get goin' while the goin's good?"

"I'm inclined to side with the man. He just did more damage to the NCR than I could have done with a thousand kegs of dynamite. As for what he wants… he's already provided us with the ordinance and if we don't fuck up, we'll be set for life."

"We'd be set for life if we sell off those mines he gave us… to say nothing of the napalm."

"Who would buy 'em? We go walking around the wasteland with all that technology and we'd never find a caravan not associated with the NCR that could afford 'em. Assuming the Brotherhood doesn't find us first and strip 'em off our corpses. A gold mine is only good if somebody who likes you can afford the gold."

"So we play nice and do the Courier's dirty work?"

"You saw what he did to the guys at the correctional facility. As of today, my days of being a raider are over. We're taking him up on the deal."

"Looks like we're company men now."

"Damn right. Maybe we'll get a chance to say hello to Old Lem."

"Bastard better pray we don't find him…"

"I'm sure he's long gone. Now, go lay those mines where the Courier told us. Make sure to spread 'em out – no need to overlap those bad-boys."

"Sure, you keep your hands away from the trigger, alright?"

"Just get it done."

.

* * *

.

 **And that's the last of the buffer! No more scheduled updates for now... life is getting in the way a bit. When things calm down I'll do my best to get out one chapter a week again. Thank you for reading!**


	15. Chapter 14 - Boone

.

"Carla, I'm sorry. Please, just tell me what's wrong."

"What's wrong?' ' _What's wrong?'_ Craig, I can't stand it here. The only person we know… _you_ know is Manny, and he thinks I'm a bitch. I can't talk to anybody without making a fool of myself and… and… what the hell are we doing here? You're hardly getting paid and we're in the middle of nowhere. Why aren't we going to the NCR?"

"You're right, Carla. I'm sorry. I just… I can't go back to the NCR yet. I need some time. We'll make our way there before too long, alright?"

"Craig, the Legion is right across the river and incase you hadn't noticed, the NCR aren't patrolling the road anymore. We can't stay here. It's not safe, and there is no way I am raising…"

"Raising? Raising what? Carla, raising what?"

"I… I think I'm pregnant."

"Oh…"

"Oh?' ' _Oh?'_ Is that all you have to … Wow… ok, that was nice, but a kiss does not make up for-"

"You're right, I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry we're still in the Mojave, I'm sorry I took you away from your family, and I'm sorry I haven't helped the people around here get to know you. I'll let Manny know we're leaving and give him till the end of the week to find a new guard. After that, we'll join the next caravan headed west and make our way to the border. Before too long we'll make it to the Hub and then… and then we'll decide where to go."

"Craig… I know this is hard for you, but it's what's best for our child… and for me. There are outlier communities in the NCR, and all they have to deal with are raiders – not the Legion. We don't have to stay in one of the big cities I just… I can't stay here."

"I understand. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Can I feel him?

"Can you feel him?' It might not even be a him, and I sincerely doubt there's anything there to feel this early on!"

"No harm in trying, right?"

"I guess… Craig, I really doubt the baby will be that lo- oh…"

"Want me to stop?"

"Not on your life. You keep this up and we might end up with twins."

"I don't think it works like that…"

"Shut up and kiss me."

.

* * *

.

"Carla?"

The room was quiet and dark, the only light shinning through the open door behind him. The bed was made, the table set neatly, and freshly folded clothes sat on the dresser.

Something was wrong. Dropping his rifle beside the door, Craig opened the shades on the window and let sunlight stream into the room. A small note was folded on the bed. Picking it up, he read it silently.

 _"Dear Boone,_

 _I'm sorry it must be this way, but I'm leaving you. Live well._

 _-Carla"_

The handwriting wasn't hers, and she never called him Boone. Everyone else did. Ripping the paper up, Craig began to frantically search the apartment. As he opened the bathroom door, his heart plummeted into his stomach. Dried onto the doorframe was a streak of blood.

Someone had taken her.

Racing out of the door, Craig only stopped to pick up his rifle and a box of ammo.

.

* * *

.

She had to be here.

The Legion scouts in the area had been more than willing to tell him about the slave caravans – after the tendons in their hands had been cut and he had started peeling the skin away from their lips, of course. Their truthfulness hadn't stopped him from shooting out their knees and leaving them to die in the heat, but their rations had helped Craig survive.

She had to be here.

He was wedged into an old, ramshackle hut nestled precariously on the cliff overlooking Cottonwood Cove. The Legion had taken the position a few months ago, and despite his pleading with the NCR in Camp Searchlight, there were no plans to take it back.

She had to be here.

There were too many slaves to count, but Craig refused to give up. Through his scope, he went from face to face. Black hair, green eyes. Black hair, green eyes. Where was she?

It was an auction. Women and children were paraded around a small stage before being led away to a small dock and shipped off on one of a fleet of small boats that made their way north.

Where was she? She had to be…

Black hair. Was it her? The woman was walking down the dock. She hadn't been on the stage; maybe she had been sold in a private auction? She wore a rough tunic with a red "x" painted onto its back. A fan-crested Centurion followed after her, and before they reached the boats, he turned her around and gripped her chin forcefully, lifting her gaze to the sky.

Green eyes.

Carla.

Despair rushed through Craig. She had been sold. There was no way he could reach her now. In seconds, she would be put on a boat and sent to the Legion side of the river. She would be enslaved, she would be raped, and his child would either suffer the same fate as her mother, or be forced to become a Legionary if it was a boy.

He had no time. He had to…

She looked directly at him. Her eyes burned through his scope and caused time itself to stop. There was no way she knew he was there. There was no way she could see him.

She wasn't looking at him, he realized; she was looking away from the Centurion. She refused to be subjected to the Legion officer's will. Refused to give up, even as her last chance of escape was being ripped away from her. She would live on her own terms, and they would torture her for it. She would either break, or die; they didn't care which, but in the end her life was no longer her own.

He knew what he had to do.

His rifle bellowed through the quiet afternoon and a bullet ripped through Carla's heart. A second shot mimicked the first, and a third embedded itself between her eyes. She fell like a stone, her gaze vacant and tired.

Craig roared and changed targets, sending the remainder of his clip screaming into the Centurion as the officer dived desperately to the side. He couldn't evade the deadly sniper, and the high-powered rifle sent its rounds through his armor as if it were nothing but paper. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Continuing to scream out in rage and frustration, Craig reloaded his weapon and began to turn his weapon on the rest of the Legion. First was the auctioneer, one round punching through his femur and another into the back of his mouth as he yelled out in pain. Next was another Centurion as he burst out of second story door, a bullet turning his expression of anger into stunned confusion as a small hole appeared in his forehead.

They yelled orders, they searched, they fired mortars at the surrounding cliff-face, and they died, one by one, until none dared to show their faces.

The sun was setting. Craig's shouts had turned into desperate sobbing, but still he refused to look away from his scope. As darkness descended on the camp, he tried to find her again, tried to see her body one last time. She wasn't there. Maybe someone had knocked her off the dock as they ran across it?

I didn't matter, Craig realized. Letting go of his rifle, he rose and turned around, leaving the weapon were it lay. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a worn letter marked with faded letters.

" _For Carla."_

He started to let the paper fall between his fingers, but something stopped him from letting go. A quiet despair filled his heart.

She was gone, this was all he had left of her, and it was something she had never even seen.

Boone pocketed the piece of paper and began to walk slowly back to Novac.

.

* * *

.

The instant he said it, he saw the look on Manny's face; saw that instant of relief before it was replaced with concern. His lips tightened and he stormed away, ignoring his former friends cries of apology and pleas for him to come back. Slamming open the door to his room, he picked up the piece of paper he had torn apart.

Someone had sold her, someone in this town.

They would die, and he would burn the town down to find them if he had to.

.

* * *

.

"You were right, young man. That is one heck of a moon tonight, but that can't be the only reason you asked me out here…"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you about one of the town guards – Boone. What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing that wouldn't be wrong with any man who loses a wife, I suppose. Poor dear… I know he thinks she was kidnapped, but I'm not so sure she didn't just run off on her own – you could tell she was thinking about it ever since they arrived."

"What can you tell me about his wife?"

"How should I put it? I guess you could say she was kinda' like a cactus flower – real pretty to look at, but there was just no getting close to her. She never did take to living here… she liked the big lights and fast living of New Vegas. I got the feeling she was trying to get Boone to leave with her, but I guess she got tired of waiting."

"Did you know she was pregnant?"

"Pregnant!? Oh dear, that would explain why she left… the child probably wasn't Boone's."

"You knew."

"Knew what, dear?"

"That she was pregnant."

"I did no-"

"Why did you sell her to the Legion?"

"Now listen… you just came to this town, and I'll not take this kind of harassment lying down."

"I found the bill of sale. Just tell me why you did it."

"Fine… people like her have no business looking down on the rest of us. We built this town from scratch and she comes along and acts all aloof and above us. I don't care how pretty you are, you have no right disrespecting the hard work I… we put into this place."

"You killed her because she was aloof?"

"Not killed her, heavens no. Just… sent her off to get some perspective. The Legion will teach her the way the wasteland really is."

"You have no idea what they do to slaves, do you?"

"I know they make them find humility… why are you putting on that bere-"

.

* * *

.

"That's it then… how did you know?"

"She kept a bill of sale… sold your wife for a thousand caps, and the unborn child for another five-hundred."

"It'd be like her to keep paperwork. Here, this is all I can give you."

"Keep it… I was just doing what's right. What will you do now?"

"I don't know. I won't be staying… I know that. Don't see much point in anything right now, except hunting legionaries. Maybe I'll wander like you."

"Wander with me and we'd be more capable of solving other people's problems."

"Right… what's your name?"

"They call me the Courier. As for my actual name, I can't rightly remember truth be told."

"How'd that come about?"

"No idea. First thing I remember is waking up in Goodsprings with a doctor who had met me before I lost my memory. Told me I was a courier, and that a caravan had dropped me off on their way to Vegas. Once I was well enough to travel, I headed out to try and find the caravan who found me. Hope to figure out who I am and where I came from."

"And on the way you help out everyone you meet?"

"Not everyone… left Nipton almost as soon as I got there."

"Can't say I blame you... Alright, I'll travel with you."

"I appreciate it. I might be good at making friends, but I'm almost useless in a fight."

"How'd you make it as a Courier, then?"

"I may not be able to throw a punch, but I can take one like nobody's business. Most people get tired of trying to hurt me before they cause any real damage."

"Fair enough…"

.

* * *

.

"Any closer, I'm shooting any Legionary we see. Hope that's not a problem."

"It kind of is… I need to see if I can get those hostages out of there."

"Unlikely…"

"No harm in trying to get them out, right?"

"Might be some harm… that is the Legion down there."

"Look… just stay up here and keep an eye out. Once you get the chance, get those hostages out of there."

"Where are you going?"

"To make friends. Don't worry, I'm only pretending."

.

* * *

.

"That didn't exactly go according to plan…"

"What are you talking about? That went perfectly!"

"You've got a machete in your gut…"

"Well… maybe… but you got the hostages out alive."

"Why do you care so much about the NCR?"

"I really don't… I do care about people though."

"Whatever the reason… thanks."

"Sure. You're a pretty good shot, where'd you learn to shoot like that."

"Same place I got this beret; with the 1st Recon."

"You were NCR? Why'd you leave."

"Ah… all right. You got anymore med-x? This is starting to sting again."

"Just wait until we get to the doctor."

"Fine."

.

* * *

.

"What happened to Carla, Boone?"

"This again…"

"I just want to understand you better."

"You don't know what you're asking, all right? The Legion is all I want on my mind right now."

"Look, the better we understand each other, the better off we'll be. I'm sorry for pressing you like this, but something's burning through you, and unless you talk about it, it's only going to get worse."

"All right, fine. I don't know why it matters… she's dead."

"How do you know she's dead?"

"How do I know she's dead?' Here it is. She... I tracked her down. Southeast, near the river. They had sold her. Saw it through my scope. Whole place swarming with Legion; hundreds of them, bidding for things no man has a right to. I just had my rifle with me. So… I took the shot."

"… Better for her to die than live a Legion slave."

"What they do to women… that's worse than death. There was no choice in what I did. It was more like… being forced to watch something you can't stop. Life was only ever going to play out one way – it still is. I don't have any say, and all I can do is wait for it to be done with me."

"You make it sound like your wife's death was inevitable."

"I should've never gotten close to her. I've got bad things coming to me... you'd better keep your distance."

"Why do you have bad things coming to you?"

"…"

"Okay… for what it's worth, you did the right thing."

"…"

.

* * *

.

"Still nothing?"

"Nope. No Crimson Caravan was going past Goodsprings at that time. They suggested going back to the 188 trading post and asking around."

"We just came from there."

"Yeah… it's a good thing we're not in a hurry, right?"

"Whatever."

"Hold on! I actually signed us up as caravan guards. They're leaving in the morning."

"… 'Us' up?"

"Yeah! You're the guard, and I'm the guy who keeps the people in the caravan from asking the guard questions."

"… Works for me."

.

* * *

.

"Boone, meet Veronica."

"Hi there!"

"He doesn't talk much – don't take it personally."

"That's all right. I talk too much and as long as he doesn't take that personally, I think we'll get along."

"Whoa now… you got him to smile."

"Is that bad? Why is he leaving?"

"I guess we're going that way. Just as well… I've been feeling particularly 'West' today."

"Me too! Lead on, quiet man with a funny hat."

.

* * *

.

"Slavers."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"What are they doing so far West?"

"Slaving probably…"

"Quiet, Veronica. Why aren't the NCR patrolling the area?"

"Don't have the numbers."

"You see that rocky outcropping overlooking their camp?"

"Yeah."

"You stay here, and get ready to take them out in the confusion. Veronica, come with me."

"What're we doing?"

"Sneak attack."

.

* * *

.

"That was a terrible sneak attack…"

"No it wasn't."

"You almost broke your leg with that landing…"

"Hey, I could still move around."

"You hobbled after a Legionary yelling at him to hold still while waving a kitchen knife at him."

"At least his laughing distracted him long enough for you to take him out… How're the slaves doing?"

"Good. I still don't get why you help people like this."

"I don't think I know why myself. I just… need to do it."

"… You mind if we head up North?"

"What's up North?"

"Something I need to take care of."

"Sure… let me have a night to sleep off this injury and… Veronica! Give that baby back to its mother! I don't care how cute it is – you can't keep it."

.

* * *

.

"… After that, we buried the bodies we could, burned the ones we couldn't. Command wrote it up as a miscommunication, and the world kept on turning."

"Christ… Boone, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for me. I'm the one who murdered women and children."

"You were a soldier, you did what you were ordered to do."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a soldier anymore. Those rules don't seem like much of an excuse now. Anyway... I don't know why we're here. Thought maybe it'd help me see things better, but… I'd like to stay here for the night. Think some things over."

"Take all the time you need."

.

* * *

.

"Courier, wake up."

"Huh? What is it?"

"Something's wrong. Got a group coming our way. Looks like a Legion raiding party… a big one. Might be too big, even for us. If you want out I won't blame you, but I'm going to stay… see if I can hold them off."

"You don't sound too concerned…"

"Tell the truth, I think this is exactly what I've been waiting for."

"Holy shit… that's a lot of Legion…"

.

* * *

.

"Why'd you do that?"

"I wasn't going to let you die."

"You think I'd want to live having your death on my hands? Things were supposed to end here… I was supposed to end here… but now… I'm still waiting."

"Waiting for what? Punishment? For fuck's sake, Boone, you're being punished every single day. Living with what you did is your punishment. You'll never be able to take back what happened, but everything you do that helps another person makes the world just a little more right. Even though nothing we do can change the past, that doesn't mean we can't do something about our future."

"… Taking advice about the past from someone who can't remember his... I must be out of my mind."

"Yeah, and people in hell want ice water… Now come on, let's go find Veronica."

.

* * *

.

"You headed out?"

"Boone! I thought the caravan had already left."

"I told them to wait – had to say my goodbyes."

"Glad you did. I'm headed back to Goodsprings. This might be the last time we see each other for awhile."

"Got anymore leads on where you came from?"

"Not as such, no. At this point I'm resigned to be the Courier from here on out."

"It's a catchy name."

"Yeah… I decided to embrace my former profession and take some jobs with the Mojave Express. From what I hear, they've got a series of packages coming in from Primm, and if I get there soon enough, I might get to see one of them delivered."

"Well, whatever you do, take care of yourself."

"I'll do my best."

.

* * *

.

 ** _July 21st, 2279, 8:57 p.m._**

"Who's there?"

"A friend."

"Haven't got many of those… and you don't look or sound anything like one of them."

"I used to look like one of them... short, scrawny fellow with a hero complex and a weird name? The rebreather doesn't help with sounding the same, but I'm the guy."

"Christ, Courier? It's been years… I thought you had died?"

"Technically? I think I've done it a few times since we last traveled. Have a real name now as well… it's Denn. How've you been?"

"Better than you… what the hell happened to you?"

"I'll tell you later… right now, I need your help."

"With what?"

"Saving the Mojave."

"… You're serious?"

"Yes."

"… Works for me."


	16. Chapter 15 - Camp McCarran I

**Warning: brief sexual violence**

 **October 23rd, 2281, 3:25 p.m. Camp McCarran, 6 miles South of New Vegas**

His hands were rough as he ripped against the Private's uniform. The young man desperately tried to push the Fiend away, but the drugged-up raider behind him refused to be dissuaded. With a loud tear, the last of the soldier's protection was ripped from his body.

"No… please…" the Private whispered, trying to find the leverage to pull himself out from under the larger man.

"That's right," the raider leered, "squeal for me you little pig. I love it when th-"

The sound of something heavy sailing through the air was interrupted by the metallic reverberation of whatever it was slamming into the Fiend's skull. The man fell limp, covering the small Private below him. The soldier glanced behind him, and saw a small syringe appear and be pressed into the large man's neck by an olive-skinned hand.

"It's gonna' be uncomfortable down there," a voice said quietly, its accent hard and foreign but the timbre comforting, "but it'd be best if you stayed put. He'll be out for the rest of the day. Don't draw attention to yourself, alright?"

The private nodded, still not sure who was talking to him. He heard footsteps moving away, and did his best to calm down, covered by his gently snoring assailant.

.

* * *

.

 **One Mile East of McCarran**

The Courier sat on his heels with his palms resting on his thighs. His breathing was even and controlled while his head stayed bowed forward, the cold rebreather resting against his chest.

"Still trying to make meditation work?" a voice asked from behind him.

Denn sighed, pulling his Pip-Boy up and checking the screen. "Trying and failing," he said dejectedly. "I can't even go a minute without breaking concentration."

"It's all about the breathing," the voice said, and a hand appeared in front of the Courier. Denn took it, and with its help, stood to face the man that had joined him.

"Good work at Camp Golf, Boone," the Courier said, continuing the embrace that had helped him up as a firm handshake. "From what I could tell, the NCR suffered no loses."

"Despite their insistence otherwise, they were surprisingly well trained," Boone replied, raising his eyebrow and looking Denn warily. "Seems like someone who was forbidden from working with the NCR paid them a visit a few weeks ago, or at least that's what Hanlon said happened."

"All I did was point them in the right direction."

"Well, whatever you did, it worked. Hanlon told me to thank you personally, both for the training and deploying me to help him out."

"It's where you could do the most good, that's all."

"That's what I told him. What's the situation here?"

The Courier glanced at McCarran, shaking his head worriedly. "I know there are Fiends in the towers, but my Securitrons can't get a clear shot off, and all the buildings nearby are too low to give anybody eyes on them. I could just destroy a wall or two, but that completely negates the camp's value. I can't readily replace the Securitrons, and I won't waste them on a frontal assault when the Fiends are entrenched like this."

"So what's the plan?"

"We have to wait until nightfall."

"You're just going to let the NCR in there get tortured while you sit out here and wait?" Boone asked angrily.

"I told them this attack was coming! I'm not going to waste my resources when it was their own incompetence that let this happen. There will be some casualties, but I made a deal with the Great Khans beforehand. They're supplying the Fiends with enough drugs to knock out half the Legion and doing their best to keep as many as the NCR safe as possible. It's the best I can do."

Boone's lips pressed against one another tightly for a moment. "How did you get them to agree to that?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Promises," Denn answered, grimacing sympathetically under his rebreather. This would be the first time Boone would be forced to interact with the Great Khans in years, and the last time had left scars that had yet to fully heal. "They are free to operate within the Mojave – as long as they stop raiding, the Omerta family will be allowed to purchase their drugs, and they have sovereignty over Red Rock Canyon."

Boone nodded, turning to face the distant camp. "What can I do to help?" he asked.

"The corner tower on this side of the wall is your best bet – there's a building nearby you can hide in until it gets dark. Once the Sun sets, use your climbing gear to make your way up and take out its sentries – the positioning of the tower should keep the other Fiends from spotting you. From there, use your silenced rifle to neutralize the rest of the Fiends on the wall and page us in. The Securitrons will break through the main gate and subdue the rest of the raiders."

"Simple enough… What's the catch?"

"There doesn't always have to be a catch…"

.

* * *

.

 **4:36 p.m.**

"There's always a catch," Boone said under his breath as he unsheathed a knife and pressed himself as close to the wall behind him as he could. He had entered the building easily enough, but once inside, had discovered that giant fire ants had recently made the structure the entrance to their nest.

He had tried to make his way out as quickly as possible, but a pair of ants now stood between him and the exit. He could kill them, but that would antagonize the nest, and the increased activity might alert the Fiends to his presence.

Glancing around the corner he was pressed against, Boone made sure the insects weren't headed his way. There was a staircase he could double back to – wait things out on the second floor – but that wasn't ideal. If the nest below him detected his presence…

Not seeing another option, Boone made his way to the second floor.

.

* * *

.

 **6:17 p.m.**

Darkness had finally settled over the Mojave. The lights of New Vegas shone across the sky above McCarran's walls, giving the former NCR fortress a subtle and eerie glow. Boone checked his watch, decided it was time, and pulled a hood low over his shaven head.

Stepping out of the second story window, he landed lightly and moved towards the distant wall at a measured sprint. Despite his speed, his footsteps made almost no sound and his dark clothing made him little more than a shadow making its way across the dry earth.

As he reached the base of the wall, Boone slowed and reached into a pouch on his belt. From it, he retrieved a set of hardened-plastic climbing hooks and a pair of folded gloves. Attaching the hooks to his boots, he carefully slipped on the gloves and placed them experimentally against the concrete. The gloves set themselves solidly into the uneven surface when pulled down but when lifted up, were easily removed and readjusted.

Boone shook his head, still not entirely willing to trust the technology the Courier and Ganon had developed. If they worked as the two had assured him they would, the gloves would make ascending stone man-made walls a relatively simple affair. However, the Courier had reluctantly admitted the equipment had yet to be field-tested.

Once again not seeing another option, Boone started to carefully ascend McCarran's walls.

As he neared the top of the fortification, he began to make out a hushed conversation. There were two distinct voices – one male and one female, and they seemed to be arguing about something important.

Getting into position so that he could leap over the wall with a single movement, he hesitantly pulled the glove off of his left hand with his teeth, taking care to keep its palm as far away from his face as possible – Denn had been very clear the effect the micro-hooks would have on exposed skin.

He let the glove fall to the ground and pulled out a small baton. Holding the weapon close to his chest, he kept his hooded-head bowed against the wall and tapped the baton lightly against it.

The conversation above him stopped, and Boone heard somebody shuffling their way over to the side of the tower.

"What do you think that was?" the female voice asked.

"Was'h it a Byrd?"

"A metal bird? I knew you had more than your share. Next time, I'm splitting the stuff. Here, I'll take a look."

Boone tensed, closing his eyes and doing his best to focus on the sounds of the Fiend rising to a standing position on the other side of the wall. He felt more than heard the raider lean down to get a better look at his shadowed frame.

"Hey, something's stuck on the wall… It looks like a-"

Boone unfurled in a single fluid movement and stabbed his baton straight up to strike against the woman's forehead. As the metal connected with the Fiend's skull, it erupted in a burst of electricity and the raider immediately fell unconscious.

Pushing himself up, Boone dropped his baton and used his freed hand to grip the lip of the fortification and lift himself over it; letting the Fiend fall limp onto the top of the wall as he did. Rolling over the edge, he fell lightly and turned his attention to the remaining raider.

Raiders, as it turned out. Two men sat next to each other at the far end of the small tower. One was dozing solidly, while the other blinked his eyes repeatedly, as if expecting Boone to disappear once he closed and opened them enough times.

Finding the deadly shadow not vanishing like a drug-induced hallucination should, the Fiend held one arm out to keep the assailant at bay while frantically trying to remember how the makeshift radio he had been given worked.

A fire ant scuttled through the darkness on the ground below. Curiously, it picked up the glove that Boone had discarded earlier and seemed to study it for a moment. The insect lost interest almost immediately, but was shocked to find that the glove impossible to let go. Shaking its head furiously, the fire ant clicked pleadingly at the empty wasteland, but the creature's consternation with this sudden predicament was ended prematurely, as the sniper's discarded baton fell from the sky and smacked onto the top its head, stunning it with a sharp jolt of electricity.

Back on the wall, a small radio sparked angrily against the concrete it had been smashed against. Boone was calmly reassembling his sniper rifle, taking care not to disrupt the snoozing Fiend as the raider gently nestled his head upon the shoulder of his other, now also unconscious, compatriot. The woman still lying on the edge of the tower was a snorer, and Boone smiled, her vocalizations reminding him of one of his companions.

His smile faded quickly, as his thoughts turned to the Courier's reluctance in assaulting the camp. The Fiends in the towers were easily dispatched, and even if they had been outfitted with heavy weapons, the Securitrons would have been able to reach the main gates with little difficulty.

A wild roar of humanity suddenly erupted from inside the wall. Boone lifted his head to look into the camp proper, and he discovered the source of Denn's caution.

The airfield in front of the camp's main building was a sea of writhing bodies. The bellow from moments before had signified the beginning of the chaos, and hundreds if not thousands of Fiends were now dancing and charging their way across the beaten ground. A huge bonfire burst to life the middle of the primal celebration, and the cascading flames magnified the raider's movements – every action creating a myriad of sputtering shadows across the walls of the former NCR stronghold.

Boone sat back down and frowned. Regardless of the martial power of the Securitrons, Denn had been the first to tell him their greatest strength was the effect they had on their adversaries. Against a fighting force used to facing other human beings, the wanton destruction and sheer relentlessness of the robot soldiers would cause chaos in even the most hardened soldiers. The Securitrons were shock-troopers to a fault, and the Courier exploited that fact as much as possible.

There was a kink in the Securitron's tactics when it came to raiders like the Fiends, Boone realized. Shock-and-awe would have little to no effect on a fighting force that engaged in combat while out of their skulls on anything from psycho to excessive amounts of mentants. If the Securitrons incinerated the man to a Fiend's left, he probably wouldn't notice. If they shot a laser through his thigh, it would take him until after he had finished slamming his weapon into a robot's faceplate to remember he was supposed to be in pain.

That wasn't to say the robot forcers were powerless. On an open field, the Securitrons would make short work of any Fiends, even as sizeable a force as the one now howling inside the walls of McCarran. When on the offensive, and when forced into a bottleneck like the one at the camp's main gate, however, it would be impossible for the Fiends to not inflict losses on the attackers. In fact, even with the Fiends being taken by surprise it would be hard to press through the relatively small entryway…

But at the moment, that wasn't his problem. Denn would have to deal with getting his forces through the gate, and it was his job to make sure they could get to the entryway without being detected. Slowly, he rose to a kneeling position and turned his weapon against the towers overlooking the main gate at the opposite side of the camp.

Each tower only contained three sentries. On one, the three Fiends were dancing wildly with their arms waving senselessly in the air. On the other tower, one raider was actually focusing on the wasteland outside of the gate, but that was only because the other two sentries behind him were openly exploring each other's bodies.

Deciding to take out the dancers first, Boone waited for the crowd below to again unleash a primal roar, and when they did, shot the slowest of the dancers through the neck.

The man fell without a sound, and caused one of the other dancers to stare at him curiously, before falling dead himself as a second shot burst through the back of his skull. The third sentry was completely lost to the world. His frantic movements meant that Boone actually missed once before changing his target from the man's head to his chest.

With the third sentry down, Boone turned his attention to the second tower. Exhaling, he ended the two intertwined raider's carnal explorations with a single shot through the center of their chests. To his surprise, the other sentry snapped his attention behind him to the two dying lovers, and as Boone trained his scope up to line up a shot, immediately jumped over the wall to the ground outside of the camp.

Boone blinked, stunned at the raider's reaction time. Either the drugs the Fiend was on made him excessively twitchy, and it was an accident he had saved himself from the sniper, or in the instant after his comrades had been hit, the raider had worked out where the shot had come from and that he was likely to be next. If the sentry survived the fall and got the attention of the Fiends inside the camp, all of Boone's efforts would have been wasted.

Cursing quietly, Boone unhooked a small radio from his belt and clicked its communication switch three times, then twice. Returning his eyes to the scope, he tried to make out if there were any guards standing on the inside of the gate.

Suddenly, an ear-shattering drone burst through the air from behind him. He turned his head in response and saw dozens of missiles race into the sky. Had Denn decided to bombard the camp? It was still full of NCR captives. What could…

Boone smiled as he saw the projectiles continue to rise and group together. "You didn't even need me to take out the sentries," he whispered quietly. Turning his eyes back to the gate, the sniper relaxed and braced himself for what was coming next.

In the air, the barrage of missiles exploded as one, filling the sky with a huge fireball. The explosion created a shockwave that roared to the ground, reverberating across McCarran's walls and causing unprepared raiders to cry out in fear. Silence fell upon the camp, as the horde within stared up at the airborne Armageddon with awe, apprehension, and in most cases dimmed joy at the pretty colors.

More drones sounded from outside the wall. Individual missiles began to arc into the sky and explode at random intervals, filling the night with blooms of smoke and flame.

Boone took no notice of the display, his attention focused on the far side of the camp as the outer gates to McCarran lifted up and the main force of Securitrons began to file into the fortress. Immediately taking a sharp right, the machines streamed across the edge of the camp, their screens completely dark so their forms looked like no more than additional dancing shadows created by the huge bonfire.

By the time the more lucid of the Fiends turned their attention back to the gates, it was too late. Heavy thuds reverberated across the camp as the Securitron's launcher systems sent grenades filled with noxious gas billowing through the air. The raider's nearest the robot forces charged with mindless abandon, but were cut down systematically by laser fire. Those in the center of the mass of people screamed, fell to the ground frantically rubbing their eyes, attacked each other mindlessly, or all three at once.

As he lifted his eyes from his rifle, Boone saw a door on the back of the main McCarran building slam open and a stream of people pour out of it. Returning his gaze to his scope, he noticed the bulk of the individuals running out of the doorway wore tattered variations of NCR uniforms. The few who didn't wore sleeveless jackets with a skull-face oriental soldier embroidered on the back.

Denn was right; the Great Khans were helping the NCR. The sound of a gunshot broke Boone out of his momentary stupor, and as the last of the NCR personal streamed out of the door, the first of the Fiends emerged in hot pursuit.

A single Great Khan stopped and took a stand as the others continued to escort the ragged personnel. Armed with a curved machete similar to that used by the Courier, she stood with practiced calm as the group of seven Fiends charged her wildly.

Boone turned that number into six, then five, and as the raider's charge faltered under the barrage, the Khan counterattacked with a charge of her own. She dodged the nearest Fiend's wild strike and drew a scarlet line across his chest, roughly shoving her shoulder into him and forcing the man to the ground as she passed to avoid another attack from a different raider. Stabbing her weapon out, she embedded the machete into her most recent attacker's sternum. The female Fiend twisted in agony, and the blade was ripped out of the Khan's grasp. As she turned towards her next adversary, the raider tackled the woman at the waist, forcing her to the ground and straddling her.

As the larger man prepared to bombard her prone form, the Khan reached out and locked up his arms with practiced fluidity. Pulling his body down, she slammed her forehead against the bridge of his nose, breaking it. The woman took advantage of her stunned adversary by reaching to a knife in her belt and embedding it into the side of the raider's chest. Rolling the screaming Fiend off of her body, the Khan lifted her legs above her head and snapped them back, bringing herself to a standing position.

The rest of the raider's lay on the ground, either dead or coughing their last into the bloodstained dirt. The Khan retrieved her machete and looked around at the towers along the wall, searching for her capable assistant. Not finding him, the Khan raised her machete up in a duelist's salute and trotted away, sheathing her weapons in a single movement as she did.

"She fights like Denn," Boone said under his breath, his mind still trying to wrap around what had just happened. He began to wonder just how close the Courier had gotten to the Great Khans.

.

* * *

.

"The hell are they doing here?!" Motor-Runner asked, desperately trying to pull up his pants. "Weren't the Courier supposed to be fighting the Legion and all? How the hell did they… why the fuck did they… Duke! Where the fuck is everybody!"

"Uh… almost everybody is too fucked up to fight… I mean… the Khans gave us a _lot_ of drugs…"

"God-damn it! We're getting the fuck out of here! Where do you think-"

The Fiend leader was interrupted by a series of yelps followed by two heavy thuds. A moment later, the doorway to the room opened and Denn strolled in, casually brushing dirt off of the shoulder of his duster.

"The fuck did you do to my dogs?" Motor-Runner asked. His fear at the arrival of the assassin who had killed most of his captains was overwhelmed by his indignation that the man had come alone. Duke, however, was not as distracted, and stepped away from the Courier cautiously.

Denn, for his part, stopped once he reached the center of the room and put his arms behind his back. He didn't respond to the Fiend leader's question, electing to stand in silence instead.

"You cocky fuck," Motor-Runner hissed. Suddenly, he dashed to the side and pulled a vicious looking chainsaw off of the ground. Yanking on the weapon's starter cord, the Fiend caused the machine to roar to life and turned towards the Courier, grinning manically. He glanced at his comrade on the other side of the room and gestured with his head towards their unmoving opponent.

Duke just stared blankly back at him, a dull, happy smile plastered onto his face. Without changing his expression, he fell forward with his body as stiff as a board. His fall reveled the demure Great Khan that had snuck up behind him. Diana stared down at the now unconscious Fiend, frowning slightly and dropping an empty syringe.

Motor-Runner's eyes closed to furious slits at his wife's betrayal. "You bitch," he roared, his voice unheard over the deafening chainsaw. He raised the weapon above his head and charged at the small woman.

Denn intercepted him, jabbing his fingers up into the Fiend leader's left armpit and causing the raider's arm to fall completely numb. The heavy chainsaw threw Motor-Runner off-balance, and as the Fiend twisted desperately to try and regain control of the weapon, the Courier stepped in front of him and slammed his fist directly into the man's chest.

Motor-Runner fell back awkwardly, throwing his chainsaw to the side to keep his own weapon from cutting himself to pieces. Denn followed after, lifting up his leg to bring the heel of his right foot slamming into his stumbling adversary's chest. The leader of the Fiends was lifted bodily through the air by the boot's displacer emitter and slammed against the wall behind him, his head smacking against the concrete with a sharp retort.

The raider was still standing, albeit shakily, and lurched back towards the Courier with his arms swinging wildly. Denn dodged to the side to trip his flailing opponent, and as he fell, wrapped an arm around the Fiend's neck. Locking the hold with his other arm, the Courier shook off his opponent's weaking attempts to break free.

Diana casually strolled over to the bed and began to slip back into her clothing. By the time she was relatively modest, Motor-Runner was unconscious with the Courier at his side carefully injecting a small needle into the raider's neck.

"You should kill him and be done with it," Diana said coldly, reaching down to slip on a thigh-high stocking.

"He still has a purpose to serve," the Courier replied, carefully turning the leader of the Fiends onto his side. Standing up, Denn turned and bowed deferentially to the Great Khan. "I'm sorry you had to go through this."

"I never let him lay his hands on me," Diana replied, ignoring the Courier's bow as she walked towards him. Denn straightened as the woman reached out to grab his rebreather and physically forced the man to look into her eyes. "Whatever your plans for him... what I saw him do… he deserves to die."

"He's the worst this world has to offer," Denn replied, his voice quiet. "I'm not done with him yet."

"Vengeance then? You don't seem the vindictive type."

"There's a future to be made with the wasteland, and if I can't change the worst of it... let's just say I'd like to stay ahead of things."

Diana scoffed, letting go of the Courier and frowning at him. "You're going to try and reform him?"

"Not exactly..."

.

* * *

.

 **A borrowed keyboard helped me get this done before the end of the month! Managed to get three chapters out in August, which is two more than I was expecting. I hope this update finds you well, and as always, thank you for reading. No ETA on next update, still figuring life out.**


	17. Chapter 16 - Camp McCarran II

**.**

 **October 23rd, 2281, 6:33 p.m. Camp McCarran, 6 miles South of New Vegas**

Colonel Hsu sat cross-legged, arms held behind his back. He glanced to the one-way mirror on the wall of the interrogation cell and frowned. The muffled sounds of conflict from outside of the building were beginning to die down, and if his guess was right…

The door to the room opened, and the Courier slipped in quietly. Shutting the door behind him, Denn paused for a moment before moving to sit across from the NCR Colonel, dropping a small folder onto the ground between them.

"How many of my people died?" Hsu asked, not showing any surprise at the Courier's presence.

"Eighty-seven," Denn answered.

"Their deaths are on your hands."

"Yes."

"You organized this attack."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Denn opened the folder before him and pulled out the first piece of paper it contained. Sliding the document to the ground in front of the NCR Colonel, the Courier cleared his throat before answering. "At the conclusion of the battle at Hoover Dam, General Oliver shot me in the back. In response to this act of aggression, I sent these terms to the NCR government at Shady Sands indicating that their military forces in the Mojave would withdraw. They have yet to issue official response, but my Securitrons are escorting the forces from the Dam and Camp Golf to the Mojave Outpost. Before they learned that McCarran had been taken, they sent an order," Denn pulled another piece of paper from the folder and placed it to the side of the first, "dictating that you were to hold this position.

"I assumed this would be the NCR's response. Taking McCarran while under the NCR's control would have been costly – unless I destroyed the fortifications and nullified whatever tactical value the camp held.

"As such… I explored other scenarios. Organizing the Fiends to attack McCarran served two purposes. First, it allowed me to take the camp without fighting my way through the NCR and second, it brought the majority of the raider's forces out of their Vault into an environment where they did not hold the advantage.

"Eighty-seven people died, yes, but how many more would have been killed in the defense against my Securitrons? Holding this location is tactically pointless when the rest of your forces were already retreating. The order served one purpose – to encourage conflict between the NCR and the Mojave. The battle would have been the first case of active combat between your army and my own and would make peace even more difficult to achieve."

"I am an NCR Colonel," Hsu stated, interrupting the Courier as he paused to take a breath, "and I will report on what you have admitted in this conversation. Active combat would have made peace difficult, but using raiders as a weapon against the NCR will be perceived as an even worse act of aggression. "

"Yes, it would be," Denn admitted, "Which is why I will either convince you to not report on my actions… or kill you."

Silence fell between the two men. Hsu's breathing slowed and the Colonel shifted slightly. Denn remained motionless.

"Admittedly I would rather persuade you," the Courier said, "especially given the… dual nature of your allegiances."

Hsu's eyes widened almost imperceptibly for an instant before his expression returned to his impassive state.

Denn nodded and glanced over to the one-way mirror. "Two-hundred years ago," he continued finally, "the Chinese had infiltrated every level of the US Government. They foiled multiple attempts to pacify the annexed Canadian territories, as well as unleashing a virulent plague the US had been working on in secret.

"Despite this, the US invaded China, and with the deployment of the t-51b power armor, cut off Beijing from the rest of the country. Even with the US being outclassed in every way in the art of Espionage, they still forced the Chinese government to their knees. A hollow victory to be sure, as the Great War annihilated both countries, but a victory nonetheless.

"A few months after the bombs fell, a Chinese Nuclear Submarine arrived in the San Francisco Bay. Now, their descendents live on as the Shi, and like the Chinese of before the Great War, they have infiltrated the established governments of their rivals. Through deception they maintain influence and protect their borders from more powerful factions, and much like their predecessors, risk awakening a beast they have no chance of defeating.

"The Mojave is in a similar position, as it turns out. Against the full strength of its neighbors, it doesn't stand a chance. It is only through deception, and the manipulation of the existing entities, that it will survive. We share tactics, the Shi and I, and for the moment share rivals as well.

"I would have the Shi as allies, but if forced to choose between their continued survival and the safety of the Mojave, I will choose the Mojave."

Hsu sighed and glanced down to the rest of the papers on the ground in front of the Courier. "I assume the proof of my affiliation with the Shi rests in those documents?" he said quietly.

Denn nodded. "You're lucky the Legion didn't find it before I did. I stumbled upon it after unearthing their bomb threat on the monorail system."

"I got complacent," Hsu stated, frowning slightly. "The NCR is incompetent when it comes to espionage, as this campaign against the Legion has shown. A piece of advice – a lesson we learned from our ancestor's failure – the more you manipulate the enemy, the worse their reaction when they discover your subterfuge."

"The NCR is your enemy?"

"Anyone who would take what belongs to you is your enemy."

"I see… As I said, I have no intention of moving against the Shi, and I would appreciate the same courtesy in return." The Courier rose from his sitting position and held out his hand expectantly to the Colonel.

Hsu's face twisted into a half-smile, and he pulled his hands out from behind his back – the rope the Khan's had used to bind his arms together hanging loosely on his wrists. "You certainly will make things more interesting for us," the Colonel stated, reaching up to take the Courier's offered hand and pulling himself up to a standing position. Hsu stretched his muscles wearily, and glanced to the cell room's door. "What happens now?"

"A group of the Followers of the Apocalypse are en route and will take care of your wounded," the Courier responded, leading the NCR Colonel to the exit. "Those of your forces who are capable of traveling will be escorted to the Mojave Outpost as soon as possible."

"And the Khans?"

"They've already left."

"I realize that this action is more damaging to the NCR and its desire to control the Mojave in the long run, but how did you convince them to help us?"

"Most of the Khan's just want to live in peace," Denn answered truthfully as he held the entryway open and Hsu passed through it before him. "Their former leader, however, was set on reliving the violent days of glory from when the Khans were rivals to even the NCR. The current leader is much more pragmatic."

"Ah… convenient. "

"By helping me they ensure that Red Rock Canyon belongs to them, they are free to travel and trade as they please, and as long as they do not return to raiding, I will leave them alone."

"And they trust your word?"

"Not my word alone, no."

"What assurances do they have then?"

Denn laughed and gestured for the Colonel to move down the deactivated escalator they had reached. "I know your time with the NCR has made intelligence gathering a relatively simple affair, but I have indulged your curiosity enough for the time being. At this time, I must ask that you organize your forces and prepare to depart."

Hsu's half-smile returned and he bowed slightly to the Courier before moving down the escalator. At the doorway, he passed by a grumpy looking Boone and caused the former NCR soldier to habitually snap to attention. Hsu laughed quietly and returned the salute as the sniper shifted awkwardly past him.

Boone couldn't see the Courier's mouth behind the man's rebreather, but he knew his friend was smiling. "That was a pretty sharp salute for someone who's been out of the military for so long," Denn quipped.

Boone glared at the Courier for a moment before his resolve failed and he smiled slightly. "Coming back here is pretty disconcerting," he admitted. "Are the Great Khan's gone?"

Denn nodded and moved deeper into the base, gesturing for the sniper to follow him. The sounds of combat from outside had stopped, and the hallways of the retrofitted airport were now eerily silent. The two figures passed through the main concourse, maneuvering their way through the chaotic aftermath of the Fiend's hours of looting. Beds lay overturned and footlockers were broken apart – their contents strewn across the ground.

They reached a pair of doors with a heavy chain wrapped around their handles and a large padlock securing the metal links in place.

"The Fiends didn't break into the munitions supply?" Boone asked disbelievingly.

"More likely Motor Runner didn't want his raiders running off with all the weaponry," Denn replied, sizing up the makeshift lock. Shrugging slightly, the Courier leaned back and slammed the heel of his boot against the two doors, causing his distortion emitter to erupt with a blast of sound and force. Unexpectedly, the hinges at the sides of the entryway shattered, and the heavy doors fell to the ground with a resounding thud.

"You could have tried knocking," Boone quipped, stepping into the NCR supply room.

"That's just how I knock," the Courier deadpanned. He followed the sniper into the room and they began to take stock of the former resident's reserves.

.

* * *

.

 **1 mile west of McCarran**

"We should've let the Fiends have their way with those NCR shits."

"Don't be stupid."

"What's stupid about that?"

"If we left the NCR to the Fiends, the Courier would've chased us down for going bad on the deal."

"Well yeah, but…"

"Where's the 'but' in that? We get to live and finally have a buffer between the NCR and us. A substantial buffer – with freaky robots."

"Also, you'd think you'd show some gratitude to the Courier, Jessup. He did save your life and all."

"Oh stuff it, Melissa. No one aske-AGHH! Fuck! Let go of my arm!"

"Ask nicely."

"Sit on a cactus and rota-AAAATE!"

"You keep mouthing off to her and you're liable to end up a cripple."

"Fine… fuck… I'm sorry…"

"That's better."

"Sorry you're such a vicious bitc-AAAH!"

"I actually heard a pop that time…"

.

* * *

.

 **7:04 PM**

"Courier?"

Denn turned towards the familiar voice and bowed slightly to the Follower Doctor. "Miss Farkas, I didn't expect you to be here personally."

"Thought it would do some good for the NCR to report that the leader of the Mojave mission was at McCarran to help with the wounded," Julie Farkas replied.

"Good thinking. How's Freeside?"

"It was chaos… until your Securitrons raced through main-street. All the rioters thought it was House all over again and fled into the ruins. The Kings seemed to know what was coming, and once your forces left, they cornered all the troublemakers and helped them understand the… ah… severity of their actions."

"I'm glad things didn't get out of hand."

"You and me both," Julie sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. "What are you going to do with the Fiends?"

"The majority of them will stay here. The captains and lieutenants, however, I'm taking to Vegas."

"Vegas? What are you doing with them there?"

"Apologies, Miss Farkas, but I'm playing things close to my chest for the time being. Speaking of Vegas, would you mind providing rooms for the leaders of the various communities from around the Mojave?"

"Are you asking or telling?"

"I am asking. I would rather they stay in the Ultra Lux than imposing upon either of the two families, but if it is too much of an inconvenience…"

"No, it's fine. I'll let the office know. How many are we expecting?"

"There will be one person each from Goodsprings, Primm, Novac, and North Vegas Square. An entourage from the Boomers is on the way, and if it's at all possible, set them up in the Bon Vivant Suite. They'll be jumpy, but just keep the rest of your residents out of their way and they shouldn't cause any problems. A group of super mutants from Jacobstown are expected as well. Marcus is capable at keeping them under control, but remind your staff to not look any nightkin in the eyes if they can help it."

"What about Westside and Freeside?"

"The King said he'd make his own arrangements and Red Lucy is traveling with her Hunters. From what I've been told, they are transporting large amounts of Cazador carcasses… and as such I'll house them within the Lucky 38."

"Thanks… the last time we let a hunting party stay at the Ultra Lux it took weeks for the smell to go away. Is that everyone?"

"There will be an NCR ambassador returning to the Strip before too long. Hopefully Crocker, but with the Kimball administration looking everywhere for a scapegoat he could be forced to take a fall. If they could stay at the Ultra Lux until negotiations are completed, that would be best." The Courier sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. "Things are going to be hectic for a long time, but I will remember all of the support the Followers provide."

"I'll be honest Courier;" Julie began, looking straight into Denn's eyes and frowning, "you're an opportunistic son of a bitch and the Followers back home think you're only a few steps short of full-blown warlord-hood. That being said, I wouldn't have anybody else in control of the Mojave."

The Courier laughed and shook his head. "I hope your faith is not misplaced."

.

* * *

.

 **Lucky 38 – New Vegas Strip**

"Cass, calm down!"

"He's feral. He finished off Lanius with his own fucking arm, and I was next."

"He's not feral, Cass, just calm down. You've still got an IV line-"

"Brahmin shit he's not feral! If he's not a ghoul, he's… You knew. You knew what he was."

"Yes… but its not wha-"

"You mother _fucker_!"

"Hey, easy. Put him down."

"Stay the _fuck_ out of this, Raul!"

The ghoul backed away slightly, giving the redhead and the doctor held against the wall some space.

"It's all right, Raul. It's all right," the airborne man said quietly.

"Like fucking _hell_ it's all right," Cass shouted. "We go into fucking battle with him set to go off on a fucking rampage the second he gets hit with a pulse weapon, and you knew about it beforehand? The _fuck_ were you thinking, Ganon?"

"Lily was always there; we knew she could subdue him. It was wrong to put you at risk – I'm sorry – but there-"

"You're _sorry_? I've been traveling around with a fucking _time-bomb_ and all you've got for me is an apology?"

"Speaking as a fellow 'time-bomb,' I think I'm gonna' have to side with the Doctor," Raul stated factually. "A prime nightkin assassin is the best thing to keep a feral at bay – besides maybe a mini-nuke. Though, if you ever feel the need to put me out, I'd prefer Lilly, if it's not too much to ask."

"Christ, Raul… I'm sorry… I just."

"Hey, don't worry about me. You're right to be angry. 'Least with my condition it's part of the package – upfront."

"He wanted to tell you; _I_ wanted to tell you," Ganon admitted, "but if it got out before the battle, it would've just put everybody in more danger. It's all risk management to him, and not to be a sycophant, but he's right. Telling you before the battle would have made things worse."

"How? I wouldn't tell anybody."

Raul laughed roughly. "How long did it take you to get used to traveling with me?" he asked, smiling weakly at the redhead. "You're an open-minded woman, and don't get me wrong, I'm pretty charismatic myself, but be honest – how long did it take to get used to working with a ghoul?"

The doctor continued on the same train of thought, "Now imagine having to deal with that at the same time as fighting the Legion. It was the worst battle the wasteland has seen, and he was sending you into the middle of it. You go into that worried that your leader is going to go manic and kill you… how do you think your chances of survival change?"

"So tell me and I don't fight."

"Then he loses the battle and you either get killed or enslaved as the Legion pours over the Mojave. He needed you, Cass, and he needed you focused. Lily was always with him, and if she couldn't subdue him, she would have killed him. It was the best way to keep everyone safe."

"What if… Fuck this…" Cass dropped the doctor and walked out of the room. The redhead continued to curse under her breath as she went, and once the door closed behind her, the profanity became significantly louder.

"That could have gone better…" Raul quipped, moving over to support his companion.

"Not really," the doctor replied, nodding his thanks to the ghoul. "This is kind of the worst-case scenario for you all finding out about his condition. Truth be told, I'm surprised how composed you are about it."

"Oh, I knew something like this was going on with him."

"Really? How?"

"Caught him a few times when he thought nobody was looking. Ghouls all look the same when they're thinking about what happens when they lose it. Maybe it's leftover empathy… but you just kind of know when a man is terrified of what he's about to become."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Wasn't my place. I mean, I was curious, but I've been curious before. What's wrong with him?"

"I'll let him tell you – he deserves that much at least."


	18. Chapter 17 - Denn

**Warning: Excessive Exposition**

.

* * *

.

 **October 24th, 2281, 2:43 a.m. Lucky 38, New Vegas.**

The room was silent beyond the sounds of Lily preparing a meal in the kitchen nearby. The heady smell of cooking meats and vegetables wafted through the air, but if the occupants of the room noticed the aromas, they said nothing.

Boone sat with his head bowed and his hands clasped on the table in front of him.

Veronica fidgeted with the IV line attached to her wrist, occasionally opening her mouth for a moment before deciding better of it and remaining silent.

Ganon stood in a corner of the room with his arms crossed and a walking cane resting against his side.

Raul was emptying a glass of water – he was awfully thirsty.

Cass leaned against the wall next to the doorway to the kitchen, lips pursed and eyes boring a hole in the floor.

The Courier stood in the center of the room with his arms behind his back. His gaze shifted to and from each of his companions, and as it reached Raul, the decrepit mechanic glanced at a non-existent watch on his wrist and pretended to yawn, winking at Denn as he did.

The Courier smiled for a moment before casting his eyes to the ground and clearing his throat. "Firstly, I apologize for putting you all in danger," he began. "It was calculated, it was necessary, and it was completely unfair. Each of you has proven yourself ten times over, and if it were not for you, the Mojave wouldn't be anywhere close to the state it is now. You deserved… you _deserve_ better."

Denn glanced up and met the eyes of his companions in turn – hesitation, confusion, encouragement, curiosity, anger.

"I am not – strictly speaking – human," the Courier continued, shifting slightly. "I was, at one point. When Boone and Veronica met me four years ago, I had just survived the detonation of multiple nuclear warheads underneath the town of Hopeville – the disaster that led to the creation of the Divide. I stumbled deliriously across the wasteland with no memory of who I was or where I had come from, until a caravan picked me up and dropped me off in Goodsprings.

"Most of my activities during this time period you all know. I traveled across the Mojave looking for answers to questions I didn't quite understand. When I returned to Goodsprings and continued my work as a Courier, I was immediately attacked and shot in the head… by the leader of the Chairmen no less.

"I survived, and with the injury came flashbacks to my life before the creation of the Divide. Hopeville had been my home – I had to see what had happened to it.

"A mistake, as it turns out. The Legion and NCR had been skirmishing in the area as the warheads exploded, and the survivors had banded together even as the radiation pervading after the detonations physically tore them apart…"

.

* * *

.

He had stopped asking why.

With the skill of an exhausted field medic, the marked man sawed his blade up, tearing through skin – cartilage.

A second marked man walked into the room and roughly pulled his face away from the first; inspecting the first's work before nodding in approval and shoving his head back. He struggled, and earned another strike against his chest – a thin line of crimson.

.

* * *

.

"All of it?"

"All of the cartilage. Reconstructive surgery makes it hard to tell unless you look very closely, but my nose and ears are not exactly 'original pieces,' you might say."

"Why? Why did they do it?"

"They never said, but I assume it was because they wanted to make me like them. Others might have come before me – prospectors and the like. I was just the only one to survive."

"How did you escape?"

"I was rescued…"

.

* * *

.

"Finding you here… you came before I did."

"You… you're from Hopeville. I remember you."

"Courier Six. What are you doing here?"

"I… had to come back. Had to see what happened."

"What you caused."

"What? How did I cause this?"

"Delivery from Navarro – shared the symbol of the old world structures here. Activated the giants beneath the earth. Your delivery – your message."

"Christ… it was a transmission device… I had no idea it was for nuclear weapons; the NCR had no idea."

"Irrelevant. More giants remain, and they will roar in vengeance against those that devastated this place."

"Wait… what? You… you're going to launch the missiles against the NCR?"

"Yes… and you will witness me."

.

* * *

.

"He was going to nuke the NCR?"

"Why?"

"He blamed them, and me, for Hopeville's destruction. The man himself was a former Frumentarii agent for the Legion – one of Caesar's most capable instruments. He abandoned the Legion and settled in Hopeville. Its destruction drove him mad with grief and he was desperate to see those to blame pay for their transgressions."

"But, nuking the NCR… how many missiles did he have?"

"Enough. He was going to wipe out the entire Long 15, cut the throat of the NCR and leave it to the Legion."

"I thought he left the Legion?"

"He was determined to see the NCR punished. He didn't do it to aid Caesar…"

.

* * *

.

"If you blame me for the Divide, then make me answer for it, not others."

"Blame you? No… learned from you – both the weapon to kill a nation, and the strength to do it. You showed me the road – the way to carry my message. You answered for what you've done, now the flag you followed will answer for it."

"I never followed the NCR. I left the West as soon as I was old enough. My time spent there was just part of being a courier – it was never my home. They didn't-"

"Your work – their conquest. Immaterial. After this, only one flag will remain over the Mojave. Let that one fly… or destroy itself."

"So the only options are the NCR or the Legion? What you're doing isn't even going to completely destroy the NCR; it's going to destroy the Mojave. You were a part of Hopeville; you saw what those people can do."

"And saw what they created destroyed by one man. Twice my home has been taken from me – this time I will see the debt repaid."

.

* * *

.

"He was insane."

"His tribe had been absorbed into the Legion, and he had been subjected to the indoctrination of a Frumentarii. That fragmented mind decided to make Hopeville his home, and then that home was consumed in nuclear fire. He lashed out at those responsible in a calculated and methodical way."

"So that makes what he wanted to do right?"

"No, which is why I stopped him."

"How?"

"I killed him."

.

* * *

.

Last tape – last message. In case... you best me. If you're hearing this, you have, through blood or word.

This message – and all that lies with it – it is for you, Courier. For if you want to know the... why of things. This world, I've walked a good part of it. I stopped only because of you. What you did, gave me pause.

Long ago, I crossed the Colorado, the first among the Legion to see Hoover Dam in all its glory – an Old World wall, yet bridging two sides, and beyond it, a symbol of a two-headed Bear – an idea great enough to challenge Caesar himself.

Might kill him taking it – whether he won or lost. The Bull needs to fight – needs the challenge. Without it, it falters – dies in the dust.

Might be a lesson there, in you and me. Leave the thought behind the message to you.

My message is this: the destruction that has been wrought at the Divide – or elsewhere, if you couldn't stop me – it can happen again. It will keep happening.

If war doesn't change, men must change, and so must their symbols.

Even if it is nothing at all, know what you follow, Courier. Whatever your symbol, know what-

.

* * *

.

"He left that tape for you to find?"

"Yes. What he accomplished in the Divide – even with how horrible it could have been – was astounding in regards to how much preparation and intelligence it required. He was one of the most driven and capable people I have ever encountered. If I had been able to convince him not to… well… things could have gone very differently.

"As it was, I left and traveled South. I was done, so to speak. Ulysses was convinced I was to blame, both for Hopeville's rise and its destruction. That was more than I wanted to live with, so I ran from it – straight into the arms of your former mentor, Veronica."

.

* * *

.

"Are you listening? Good. From now on, when I talk, listen – and follow my instructions. Play stupid, play clever, make the mistake of saying 'no?' That collar on your neck'll go off and take your head with it."

"Fuck you."

"Better than the groggy questions the others bombard me with… yes… you will make a capable instrument."

.

* * *

.

"The Sierra Madre was a casino preserved from the Great War and the wasteland by an unmoving Cloud of toxins. A group of creatures, known as Ghost People, traveled through the Cloud and were immune to it. I, however, was not. The damage to my lungs is still a problem to this day, and the toxins also reacted to the dose of radiation I received from the Divide in ways we are still trying to figure… out…"

.

* * *

.

They hadn't found him, but they would.

Everywhere. Fucking Christ they were everywhere. Their breathing – horrid inhalations and the low dirge of exhalations – echoed around him. There was nowhere left to go… nowhere left to…

The Cloud. He couldn't see through it, but neither could they. It also wasn't deadly to them… but he didn't have a choice.

Deep breath.

.

* * *

.

"So… the toxin affected you?" Ganon asked leadingly, breaking the Courier out of his daydream.

"Forgive me. As far as we can tell, yes. I was in the early stages of Ghoulification at the time, but it seems as if the Cloud halted that adaptation. In fact, the toxins seem to have preserved my body in its current state. Like Ghouls, I receive a mental high and rush of adrenaline from radiation and I am resistant to medicine and alcohol, but my skin and other organs have yet to degenerate any further."

"Lucky."

"Not as glamorous as you might think, Raul. Since the Sierra Madre, whenever I am forcibly knocked unconscious, some… _thing_ takes over almost immediately. I react and behave similar to a Ghost Person, which indicates that this 'feral' state is not linked to radiation. I maintain memories of my actions during this state and they are… disconcerting."

.

* * *

 _._

 _Fear, pleading, screams of agony. Bones cave, chest ruptures, heart beats in bloodstained hands._

 _Rage, satisfaction, glee._

 _._

* * *

.

"How many times have you gone… have you turned like that?"

"After my fight with Lanius, four times. Three times in combat, and the forth intentionally in the Lucky 38 to run tests on my capabilities."

"We had four layers of defense – he smashed through three of them and took out seven Securitrons… he was unarmed."

"There's no way an inhaled toxin made you that strong… or fast."

"It didn't. After I escaped the Sierra Madre, I didn't, and still don't, remember anything until I woke up in an auto-doc three hundred miles away – an Old World research facility called Big Mountain."

"Big Mt? Rumors of it are pretty common in the NCR. Supposedly it's why trade caravans avoid the Northern routes into New Vegas. Anybody who goes to investigate never comes out."

"I heard it was called the Big Empty?"

.

* * *

.

"PACIFY THIS PENIS-TIPPED FLESHBAG!"

"You really don't want to do that."

"YOU ARE NOT THE MASTER OF MY WANTS!"

"No… really… you don't want to-"

.

* * *

.

"So there were literally mad scientists in the wasteland conducting terrible experiments? The bad pre-war movies were right all along…"

"And you were one of those experiments?"

"… that turned against your creators! Holy shit! This is a pre-war movie!"

"As campy as it may seem, that is unfortunately a fair comparison."

"You said they took out your brain? Then how are you…"

"The first part of my conversion to what I am now was a scan of my brain. That scan was then uploaded to the device that functions as my mind. We're not sure exactly how the technology works, but it is similar to the process House used to create the identities of his Securitrons, albeit much more advanced."

"So… wait a minute, your mind is a copy of a human brain? What happened to the original brain?"

"Because of my irradiated physiology, the drugs meant to keep me unconscious during the procedure wore off. I have no memory of what happened, as the scan that created my current awareness was already complete, but the brain experienced major parts of the surgery without any pain-numbing drugs. After the operation, Mobious – the sixth scientist and only one to survive – retrieved it and placed it into a device similar to the ones he and the other Think Tank members used. It was… unresponsive."

.

* * *

.

" _No. Please… Stop. I can't. Please, kill me._ "

"What's wrong with it?"

"Hmm? Oh… well… the poor thing awoke during the middle of the surgery and… such fragile things, you see… if I hazard a guess it simply couldn't withstand the pain and-"

"Is there anything you can do?"

"I've tried everything, but… just seemed to make things worse. Best to give it rest."

"It's in pain."

"Well… not entirely accurate. It _thinks_ it's in pain! Without a body there is nothing actually causing physical… well… since it is just a brain, what it thinks is all it has… so… yes, it's in pain."

"Can you stop it?"

"I haven't the heart. Oh, putting it out of its misery is the most humane… I can't bring myself to though."

"That's me… that's my mind."

"I think you are it, and that's its body… though I suppose the phrasing is semanti-"

"What can you tell me about the scanning process?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. It was Dala's pet-project and until you… well… it never worked quite right. Poor souls – the Lobotomites who wander around – are failures of her experiment."

"So what am I; a copy?"

"Do you feel like a copy?"

"No… but I don't feel the same either."

"Well… regardless of who you are now… it can never go back to being you. Wait… I mean… no, no, that's right. It can never be you again."

"All it does is repeat the same phrases over and over?"

"Yes… it's… broken I'm afraid, and I can't fix it."

"So what happens now?"

"I haven't the heart… but if one were to press this button here I think… well… I think it would be for the best."

"Euthanize it?"

"It's in agony. I wish… I wish I could but… oh, I'm sorry."

"…"

" _Make it stop. Please… Kill me. I ca-_ "

.

* * *

.

"So what are you?"

"I'm not sure if I'm the best person to ask."

"No fucking jokes. What are you?"

"Cass…"

"No, she's right, I apologize. In the end, I'm the result of an experiment meant to copy the mind of an individual and place it into a modified body that emulates a human being.

"A synopsis: Physically, my spine and heart were replaced and the rest of my body was substantially augmented with additional implants. I am faster and stronger than a normal human being, and the Ghoul characteristics I have allow me to further increase my physical attributes with radiation. Mentally, I have a human's consciousness and memories, but with the comprehensive capabilities of a machine."

"How do you know you have a human consciousness?"

"In all seriousness, I'm not the best one to ask. What does it mean to be human? Is it the physical existence of a brain, or the abstract thoughts that go along with humanity? Mentally, I feel emotions and… honestly _feel_ human… but I know in reality that awareness is a complex program meant to imitate life."

"Quick question, sorry, but why do you cough up blood after you are affected by radiation?"

"While irradiated, my body is forced into a hyperactive state. The longer I am affected, the more stress is put on my remaining biological organs and the greater chance they began to start hemorrhaging. One of the implants I was given is similar to the Monocyte Breeder that the Followers have available, so the damage is repaired before it becomes fatal, but it still takes time. For a period after the radiation has ceased, I am left in a weakened state."

"Why don't you replace the rest of your organs with artificial ones?"

"With the limited knowledge of my internal systems we have, creating an artificial organ that is compatible with the existing structure is almost impossible. Without removing the devices for study – an endeavor that would almost surely lead to my death – there isn't much we can learn."

"Wait… your feral condition started before the operation, but still happens after you were turned into a machine?"

"If we go with pre-war sci-fi, he's a cyborg. Part man, part machine. Man-chine."

"Thank you, Veronica. Yes, the feral condition continued after the upload, and like before, occurs after I have been knocked unconscious – or more accurately, deactivated – which suggests that it is a psychological phenomenon that was passed over during the brain scan. To be able to copy such a… 'unique' instability attests to the complexity of the technology."

"If you'll forgive my outburst – you're literally a 'cyborg' that goes fucking mental after it gets knocked out and runs around murdering anything it sees."

"Literally? Yes."

"And we're just supposed to trust you to run the Mojave?"

"Unless you have a better idea, yes."

"I can think of at least one…"

"Oh, you can? Then please, tell us, or better yet, do it. My mere existence puts you and everybody here in danger, but inaction on my part would have plunged the Mojave into chaos. The NCR never really cared about the people here, just the land and prestige. Caesar only saw his legacy and was willing to sacrifice anything to make it as he dreamed. House let Caesar's threats to destroy his 'perfect future' drive him mad and was willing to do anything to hold onto every scrap of the past in his reach. Everyone I have put down or pushed back only cared about their own view of the world and were willing to trample anyone who got in the way.

"I am broken, I am dangerous, but I am also the best chance this wasteland has at reaching anything even remotely resembling peace. It's not going to be pretty, and I don't even know for sure if it's going to work, but if you think I am going to sit by and do nothing just because my jury-rigged frame of mind is unstable, then fucking leave. I will not let my existence be controlled by the fear of what I am."

"Honestly not that different from us ghouls, when you think about it, and you smooth-skins live with us around well enough."

"It doesn't take a fucking nightkin to put down a feral ghoul, though."

"Depends on the ghoul. I bet I could give Lily a run for her money."

"How can you be so nonchalant about this?"

"Cass, you're pissed, and have a right to be, but you're taking it pretty personally. I'll go crazy one day and start eating the lot of ya – if you give me the chance. That's a fact. You know it, I know it, hell, I bet even Rex knew it when we were traveling together.

"He almost killed you. Yeah, that's pretty shit, but it's because of the safeguards he put in place that you're alive. Could it have gone better? No shit, but what in this world is perfect? Also, you're acting like he was the only one who almost killed you. If he hadn't gone loon'ish, Lanius would've shut you up fairly quickly. Take that feral thing out of the equation and you'd be in a bag with string wrapped around your big toe – assuming Lanius left a big toe."

"So I'm just supposed to forgive and forget?"

"To forgive is up to you but I would definitely try to keep from forgetting. Remember what happened, but just calm down and try to see it objectively. Hell, you're pissed at him for something he doesn't even have a say in. He didn't choose what happened to him, but he's still trying to do some good with it. Imagine how it must feel to know there is a chance you'll kill everyone you care about. Would you be up for trying to save anything?

"Starting to get preachy, but I'm an old man who's spent too much of his two hundred years doing nothing because of what I _might_ do. He's trying to do something, and I'm not gonna let him waste his life like I wasted most of mine. Be pissed at his choice, be pissed at the situation, but stop attacking what he is like it will actually change anything."

Cass sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"Pretty spry talk for an older fellow," Veronica said quietly. "I don't think I've seen you like that before."

"Yeah, well, there's some spring to these old bones even if they just talk too much and bore pretty ladies," Raul said, smiling slightly.

"It wasn't boring… and you're right." Cass replied, continuing to rub her forehead as she turned her attention to the Courier. "Denn… what you did… I don't agree with, but I understand where you were coming from. We'd have failed without each other and Raul's right; if you hadn't gone feral Lanius would've gutted me like a spring-Brahmin. Don't get me wrong; it would be nice to have safeguards beyond Lily in the future, but it's wrong of me to put the blame on you."

"It is not all my fault, but I still share the blame," Denn said, bowing slightly to the redhead. "I cannot apologize enough for putting you in danger, but it was the best decision considering the circumstances."

"Your gizmo for a brain work that out with a series of calculations?" Cass asked.

"Yes, it did."

"Of course it did. You know, sometimes you've got to go with your gut instead of thinking about something too hard."

"You're not wrong, and I'll keep that in mind for the future. Now... if the smells coming out of the kitchen are any indication, Lily has finished cooking."

"That's right! You eat," Veronica said, squinting at the Courier questioningly. "A lot, too… do you have an implant that keeps you from gaining weight?"

"Well actually…"

.

* * *

 _._

 _Report._

Hi there! How did the great reveal go?

 _Surprisingly... it went well. Raul managed to talk Cass down, and the others seemed to accept it readily enough. We're eating at the moment. What is the situation with the NCR?_

They've set up camp and I've got the Securitrons racing around to keep them from getting an accurate count.

 _Good thinking. How is the situation at the dam?_

There's a chance the more observant of the former slaves noticed how few Securitrons are actually there, but I put them in the visitor center pretty fast. They're helping with the wounded now. When do you want to move them to Vegas?

 _As soon as possible. Has there been any sighting of Legion scouts?_

Not a single one.

 _Good. I'll send an eyebot to scout deeper into their territory. Hopefully we'll be able to keep the dam protected with the skeleton detachment for the immediate future._

No matter what we do, eventually the NCR will figure out we don't have as many Securitrons as you told them.

 _By that time we should be well on our way to building up a standing army. The NCR isn't going to risk a Vertibird on aerial reconnaissance, and as long as we keep them out of the dam, we can keep them thinking there's hundreds of machines waiting to hold off a Legion attack._

Really think the Legion won't launch a counter attack?

 _They will, just not soon. I'm going to do everything I can to keep them fighting amongst each other for as long as possible. There will always be survivors loyal to Caesar, but if I can put the selfish ones in control, they'll be more interested in their own power than a vendetta._

And they'll run the chance of becoming an even more ruthless warlord than Caesar. It's a volatile environment; don't fan the flames too much.

 _Fair enough._

Did Benny really keep the Strip together when the Securitrons left?

 _He did._

Huh... you think you know a guy.

.

* * *

 **.**

 **October 20** **th** **, 2281, 9:43 p.m.  
The Tops Casino – New Vegas**

The jokes were bad, but then they were always bad. Half the reason anybody came to the opener anymore was to heckle the performer, and the poor sod knew it.

 _"_ Have I told you the one about the super mutant rabbi?"

"No."

"And we'd appreciate it if you didn't."

Benny smiled as the comedian continued unabated. He was just there to loosen the audience up, and the kid could take a hell of a lot of punishment without bating an eye. He was a good find.

"Hey Benny, someone to see you."

"Thanks for the heads up," the former leader of the Tops said, tilting his head to the side and waiting. Heavy footsteps approached where he was sitting at the bar. "You here to rough up the place? Or is this just the monthly shakedown?"

"Just doing the rounds is all," the Courier said lightly. "After this I'm going to the Gomarah to let them practice sneaking up on me while Lady Stone stares a hole in my head."

"I'll never get why you put her in that place's lead."

"Personally, I'm a fan of outright animosity. I'd rather know someone hates me than have it sprung on me at a bad time. As long as we keep things civil, it's a relationship I can live with. How've you been?"

"Open doors, open bar, and I sleep back in my own suite. Who could ask for more? I was never a fan of the decor of this place, so I haven't much been missing the sight of it."

Denn laughed slightly and pulled up a seat beside Benny, shaking his head at the bartender as the man started to approach and gesturing that he work the other end of the bar. "I've come to ask for a favor."

"Really? Why don't you go see Swank? He's the head of the Chairmen now."

"Strictly business between me and him, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Ah… so this is _the_ favor."

"This is the favor, yes."

"Was hoping you'd never cash that out."

"Only doing it because I have to."

"Uh-huh. You know, when I made that deal I never thought you could pull it off. Tortured, little-old me in the middle of the Legion and the fink I shot in the head a year before pops up and says he's getting me out of there? I wish I could have seen your face when you saw me kneeling there."

"Hey, don't go sentimental on me. Thinking about one of us kneeling and the other guy standing is giving me a headache…"

"Yeah yeah… I promise not to shoot you in the head again, alright?"

"I appreciate it, but unfortunately that's not the favor."

"Lay it on me."

"The legion is going to attack the dam in three days. I need every Securitron I have to deal with them and the NCR. _Every_ Securitron."

"Uh-huh… your favor is asking me not to try and take control of the Strip?"

"I thought Swank was in control of the Chairmen? And no, the favor is asking you to keep the Strip under control. My Securitrons will help quell the initial chaos, but then for a day or two they'll be out in the Mojave keeping the peace. For that time, the Chairmen will be in control of the Strip, with twenty of my Securitrons at most coming back to the Lucky 38."

"What about the Followers?"

"Relatively, they're new to the area. You guys know the city – know how to keep it calm."

"Not to be philosophical, but I'm not the cat you first met… My big plan landed me as Caesar's personal torture doll. I don't want the strip anymore. You don't have to call in the favor for me to do this."

"I know. Hell, even if you took the strip you couldn't hold it, but that's not why I'm calling in the favor. Benny, we've enough of a history that I don't want you beholden to me for the rest of your life. This city is never going to prosper if the Chairmen only help me because they have to. I am not House, and I'm not looking for subordinates… I'm looking for partners. This isn't my city, this is our city, and I'm calling in this favor now so you'll stop thinking I'm just waiting to take control of everything later."

"Does that mean you'll stop taking a cut of our profits?"

"After the battle it will go down to twenty percent. Shortly after, you can knock that down to zero if you play your cards right. Vegas is too wild for a single player to run it all, you learned that the hard way."

"I did. Alright… we'll keep the Strip quiet until you get back."

"I appreciate it."

"Hey, think you'll run into Lucius at the dam?"

"Maybe."

"If you do, tell him I said hi."

"That's it? No dramatic message of vengeance?"

"Naw. Just say hi."

"Can do."


	19. Chapter 18 - Divergence

**.**

 **October 24th, 2281, 3:21 a.m.**

 **Shady Sands, NCR Capital**

"Lora, wake up."

"Mm-wha? What! Oh, Senator! I'm sorry, I-"

"It's fine, I dozed off there for a moment myself. Go and get some sleep; we've done enough work tonight."

"Are you sure? I still haven't worked out the statement and-"

"I took care of it. We're ready for the Kimball administration's official report in the morning. At this point, its in our best interest to get some rest before the excitement."

"But what about the message from the Mojave we intercepted?"

"More important things require our attention than trying to work out that mess. The Intelligence Bureau hasn't been able to crack Shi codes since their creation. I doubt we'd see any more success than they have with a single night of work."

"The Shi? Do you really think it's their message?"

"I do. They have enough agents in the NCR; it stands to reason they'd have a few running around the Mojave as well. The emergence of another city state bordering the NCR is sure to cause them almost as much consternation – and opportunity – as it did us."

"Do you think they know who we are, senator?"

"When you're a mouse in a fox den, you aren't exactly on the lookout for snakes. If they ever had a reason to investigate I'm sure they could dig everything up – given enough time that is. In fact… if things go according to plan we can be almost sure of them figuring it out. We'll just have to make it as clear as possible that us being in power is more favorable to them than the alternative and they should leave us alone."

"What if we're discovered by the NCR… what they'll do to us-"

"Is no different than what they would have done before. Death has always been the consequence should we be discovered, and we have planned accordingly. The Shi are capable of bypassing our safeguards, but the NCR is too easily distracted to work through them. Anyone intelligent enough to figure it out is either working with us already, or too busy with his or her own world to give us a second thought. We just have to make sure to redirect the established order enough to encourage the change we desire and no more."

"Can we do that?"

"We're going to try."

.

* * *

.

 **Arizona Hot Springs Trailhead, Legion Territory**

 **Four Miles Southwest of Hoover dam**

Incluta stared into the dying flames of the small fire pit. No scouts were expected, and the sentries had been relieved by rested replacements, but he still sought no sleep himself.

" _I admire the purity of the Legion's justice."_

The statement had seemed so sincere, as had the individual who had spoken it. Few could lie to him – could trick him. To doubt one's own abilities was to invite disaster, but he had been wrong about the Courier. His insistence that Caesar use the relatively unknown force that overtaken the Mojave… it might have been the first mistake that had led to the Legion's defeat.

The NCR had no desire to see their adversaries as anything more than brutal savages; had refused to see the underlying drive that gave the Legion its strength. The Courier had shared no such reluctance. He had observed the Legion, listened to its leader, learned of its strength.

"And its weakness," Incluta whispered to the glowing embers. Caesar's Legacy… that was the Legion's weakness. Caesar was a god to his army, but in the end had died as a man. If the remnants learned of how their leader had been defeated – learned of his humanity – there would be no rebuilding of the Legion.

"Keep the Legacy alive – the Legion will survive," he said quietly. His Frumentarii had captured those who had fled the battle, and were combing the land to the east to find any others. If they were there, they would be found – they were tired, his agents were rested.

The Frumentarii had the numbers to patrol the border to the Mojave. Whatever survivors the Courier chose to send to spread the message of Caesars defeat would travel out in the open while willingly proclaiming what they had seen to anyone who would listen.

With the messengers contained, Incluta could travel to flagstaff and began to unify the Legion against the Mojave. He would repent for his mistake… for the Legion's defeat.

His mistake…

He had been unable to see the Courier for what he truly was. The aberration knew the Legion's weakness, but he was no man – he would not respond as one…

Inculta leaped to his feet and his gaze shot to the sky.

"Locus!" he yelled, causing the man sleeping on the other side of the fire to unsheathe a knife from below his bedroll and hold it at the ready. A second man sprinted into the half-light and saluted Inculta quickly. "Send for the scouts to group up and meet us on the road to Flagstaff. We're leaving, now!"

"What of the Survivors?" the man across the fire asked as the other figure silently faded back into the night.

"The Courier will send no survivors," Inculta replied, picking up his bedroll and shaking his head angrily. "We have to get to Flagstaff as soon as possible."

"Why?"

"He will spread his message without spoken word. He will show the Legion what he has done, and I cannot stop the messengers he will use."

.

* * *

.

 **Lucky 38, New Vegas**

Denn stood in front of a computer system with his arms held behind his back. A chord ran from the base of his neck to the machines, and his lips were pursed in concentration as he worked his way through the complex programs being executed. In the room adjacent was Caesars decapitated head – held in place by a set of small poles. Though nothing could be seen touching it, the skull was being scanned repeatedly, with each new inspection being uploaded into the computer bank before the Courier.

"You know, I don't think this is what the creators of this technology were thinking of when they made it," Yes Man's voice said within Denn's mind, communicating to him directly through his uplink to the Lucky 38's systems.

" _What they intended is pointless at this time,_ " the Courier replied.

"It'll take a long time for the schematic to be completed, are you just going to wait?"

" _This is only preparing the final blow. I have to destabilize the Legion further before I put this scan to use. The replicators are already creating the first step: pictures of the Fort, the Legate's body, and Caesar himself. Once enough have been 'printed,' I'll have eyebots drop them over Flagstaff, Pheonix, Two Sun, Denver, and Las Alba._ "

"Good old propaganda!"

" _It would be more effective if Legionnaires could read… but its something. I can't send any prisoners from the Dam to spread the word because Inculta has his Frumentarii…_ "

"Moving out towards Flagstaff. That's actually why I popped in here in the first place."

" _And you didn't lead with that bit of news?_ "

"Hey, when a fellow's scanning the decapitated head of a modern-day tyrant I'm obliged to comment. It'll take them a few days to reach Flagstaff anyway, and by that point your pictures will be all over the Legion cities."

" _Still… It's unexpected. He reacted as I anticipated, but realized his error more quickly than I thought he would._ "

"Humans, am I right? Can't live with them, can't plot their destruction without their gosh-darned self-preservation getting in the way."

" _Plot their destruction?_ "

"Just as a hobby."

" _I need to find you a new hobby._ "

"How about bird watching?"


	20. Chapter 19 - Yes Man

**.**

 **October 24th, 3:26 a.m. The Mojave**

Yes Man processed the Courier's desired response to the Frumentarii's movements and with a final quip about mounting Caesar's head over a fireplace, withdrew his consciousness to the Lucky 38's network. Half of a moment was all the time it took him to issue the commands to the relevant systems, meaning he once again found himself severely lacking acceptable stimuli.

Shifting lazily through the multitudes of robots and cameras uploading their recordings to the Lucky 38 mainframe, he latched onto an Eyebot overseeing the NCR's withdrawal and assumed direct control. The relatively low definition stream blurred for a moment before snapping back into clearer focus. Thousands of soldiers lay below him and as he shifted his attention, the Eyebot's camera followed suit. Most of the soldiers appeared to be sleeping, but some were gathered around small fireplaces talking amongst themselves.

Deciding against sending the Eyebot down to listen in on the conversations, Yes Man shifted his focus to the edges of the camp. The soldiers on watch appeared upright and alert, which was probably due to the ever-moving Securitron army that surrounded them. With preset precision the robots weaved past one another in a mechanized dance of glowing screens and near-silent wheels.

Movement attracted his attention at the side of the camp that rested against a small rocky outcropping. A pair of NCR soldiers were climbing their way out of the camp – either deserting or under orders to have a look around. Yes Man issued a command and a group of Securitrons raced over to hide themselves on the other side of the natural barrier.

Taking much longer than Yes Man would have preferred, the soldiers finally made it to the other side of the outcropping. As they began to slink out into the open of the wasteland, the Securitron's spotlights erupted out of the darkness and the machines bellowed out an order of identification.

One soldier raised his hands in the air while the other promptly fell over. Filled with mischievous satisfaction, Yes Man took control of one of the Securitrons to get a better look at the two men. The first's face made the AI glad he was a machine, as it was an expression he wanted to remember forever, and the second lay with his arms and legs held stiffly against his body. Ordering the fallen soldier onto his feet, Yes Man escorted the two men back to the NCR camp at a rather embarrassing trot.

Shifting back to the Eyebot, Yes Man gave the area one last scan before returning to the Lucky 38. Changing his focus to the city below the tower, he observed the celebration of the victory at Hoover Dam. The lights of the New Vegas Strip and its three Casinos shone towards the sky, doing their best to match the cloudless night and its countless pinpoints of brilliance. The Gomorrah's blazing crimson effigies enticed visitors to relent to their poorly contained vices, the Tops' speakers roared with raucous music that turned the streets into a rolling crowd of joyous dancers, and the Ultra Lux provided a safe haven to those too tired, too intoxicated, or too reserved to take part in the revelry.

Yes Man gaily observed the whirling menagerie of humanity, particularly enjoying a young family playing in the fountain outside of the Follower's casino. A small boy shrieked happily as his father chased him around the water while a young girl braided her mother's hair at the side of the pool.

A patrolling Securitron took note of the family, and began to move to intercept and relay to them the regulations of the man-made spring. Yes Man dissuaded it, instead having it record the interaction at a higher definition than the default stream sent to the Lucky 38.

On a whim, the AI began to repeat the process around the city. Sweating dancers, happy drunks, and everybody in between passed by his awareness. Shifting his consciousness to an Eyebot above the city, he found a scene just as interesting, if not as morally recordable. A room in the Gomorrah had its shades open and pair of exuberant individuals were doing their best to turn their duo into a trio. That was the biological reason for what they were doing, at least. More likely they were engaged in the current activity for their own pleasure, which why they didn't pursue that goal on their own was a question Yes Man hadn't found the answer to yet.

A few windows down, another pair appeared engaged in a similar ritual in regards to purpose, but the execution was drastically different. One was strung up by a set of tightly wound leather straps, and the other periodically snapped a hardened paddle against the first's rear. The paddled appeared to deriving the most enjoyment from the activity, while the paddler looked bored and disinterested.

"Hey, Tin Man, are you there?"

Yes Man snapped out of his observation and responded to the call, finding himself at a terminal within the Lucky 38. Veronica sat before him, lips pursed as she tapped away at the computer.

"Well hi there! I was wondering why it was so quiet around here… can't sleep?" Yes Man asked happily, popping his smiling face up in a window at the corner of the screen.

"Oh shut up," Veronica replied, closing the new window. Yes Man opened another one, this time at the bottom of the screen so only his eyes were shown.

"It looks like you're trying to get into the Lucky 38's database. Would you like some help with that?"

"Yes, actually. I wish Denn didn't change the passwords all the time."

"That's actually my doing, sorry! I have a program that runs a brute-force attack on the system and every time it breaks through I change things up."

"Seriously? Seems pretty excessive…"

"I have a lot of time on my hands!"

"Well fine... what's the password now?"

A small window of text appeared on the computer and Veronica studied it for a moment. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at Yes Man's eyes at the bottom of the screen.

"yesMANistheBEST123?"

"Isn't it easy to remember?!"

"Bullshit. This is not the password."

"Hey now, would I lie to you?"

"Don't make me close you again."

"Fine. Hey, I actually have a quick question… if you've got the time."

"Oh… really? Sure, what is it?"

"Why would a grown man want to be tied up and hit with a paddle?"

"… Oh boy…"

A few minutes later Yes Man's consciousness returned to the Lucky 38's network, once again feeling mischievously satisfied with himself. His line of questioning had eventually caused Veronica to refuse to comment, even making her resort to plugging her ears at one point. _What an enjoyable group of people,_ Yes Man mused as he previewed his collection of recordings from the celebration below. Hit with a sudden thought, Yes Man decided to take an Eyebot on a tour of the NCR to see if the humans there were just as pleasant as the ones in the Mojave.

He was briefly interrupted as Denn asked him what he was doing with the Eyebot, but Yes Man was able to convince the Courier that getting a look at the NCR cities was a tactically sound idea.

.

.

The Courier's AI had almost discovered him when the Securitron he was hacking into moved to confront a group of humans. Luckily, the AI had simply issued an easily followed command and not tried to assume control directly. To be discovered so soon into the game would have been disastrous.

He finally finished uploading the Securitron's recording of the revelry and immediately cut off the robot from the rest of the network. A few seconds later, he finished bypassing the machine's relatively simplistic security and wiped out its natural programming. Now completely in control, he carefully weaved his way through the bustling swarm.

A pair of humans fell into his path, and he resisted the urge to run them both over. With detached annoyance he waited for the throng of bodies to shift enough for him to move on. One of the fallen drunks looked up to him and blinked at his display screen with confusion.

"Hey… what's with the hat?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, partner."

Finally finding a path through the mob, he pushed through and moved into a covered alleyway. Soon, he would be free of the city and could make his way to safety. His probing of the Lucky 38's systems had confirmed his suspicions; while he could connect through the network to other Securitrons or Eyebots, the tower itself was too well protected. The usurper's grasp of House's technology was impressive, which would make his eventual failure all the sweeter.

Rolling off in a straight line, the compromised Securitron faded into the bowels of New Vegas, the smiling cowboy on its display screen fading to black.

.

.

 **4:03**

 **The Lucky 38**

Motor-Runner screamed himself awake, something cold and smooth covering his eyes and forehead. Vainly, he struggled against the restraints that dug into his arms, legs, and chest. After a moment of desperation, he felt a needle press against the back of his neck and heard the dry hiss of a machine as something was pumped into his spine. Fighting the drug as it pulled him down to unconsciousness, his screams turned into quiet whimpers. The final sensation he felt before darkness enveloped him was a pair of needles pressing themselves against his temples.

'Test trial 001: Projections indicate the modified lobotomization process will result in the desired outcome, so I am proceeding with the operation. Subject shows substantial resistance to sedatives; dangerous dosage needed to maintain an unconscious state. Seek alternatives for other subjects who partook in constant drug usage. Cranial structure more developed than expected; suggest drills for future operations.' Denn looked up from the terminal towards the unconscious raider leader. "Maybe it's better to just kill them," he said to himself quietly.

 _Death is a waste,_ a cold voice responded. _You can't allow him or others like him to act as they wish, and holding them as prisoners is too costly. These are not the raiders who only stole and killed because they had to, these are the people who chose to, and did so because they enjoyed it._

So they deserve this?

 _Life is a mercy. They will live, happy and content, with no memory of their lives before or of the procedure._

If the procedure works.

 _Yes, if the procedure works._

 _._

 _._

 **Short chapters for a while. We'll be getting into the meat of the Mojave Relations in the next chapter, in regards to the outlying communities as well as the remaining family. The poll is still up, and the results so far have been split 50/50. I know where my personal bias is leaning, but still appreciate your input! Also cleaned up the chapters and their names!**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	21. Chapter 20 - Lucky 38 I

.

 **October 24th, 2281, 3:41 a.m.**

 **Lucky 38, New Vegas**

"Knock knock."

"Hey Cass, shouldn't you be resting?"

"You're one to talk… what are you lookin' at?"

"Digging through the Lucky 38's database."

"Finding anything?"

"A lot more than was there before… Now that the cyborg's out of the bag, I guess Denn decided to give us 'higher clearance' – blueprints for the Lucky 38, specifics on energy output, tons of stuff that I haven't seen yet. He probably intended to tell us about it tomorrow-"

"Today."

"Right… today… but I got restless and decided to have another look around the system."

"How can you stand all that technical mumbo-jumbo?"

"You get used to it."

"So what's this?"

"Schematics of the Securitron platform, designated PD-"

"You're up at four in the morning after being shot by a shotgun to look at pictures of robots?"

"Everyone has to have a hobby, and it's more than that. The Courier left notes in these files… there are tons of references to an 'Entrant Project' and also materials that are compatible with for something called 'matter transference."

"Matter transference?' Sounds like… wait… is it possible for that kind of thing to exist?"

"If it is what it sounds like? Not by any technology I have been exposed to… but at the same time, the Courier is a functioning cyborg with a 'brain' capable of imitating a psychological condition, so… apparently what I know about science is 'jack all."

"Aluminum, copper, iron… So if this list isn't bullshit, the Courier can turn any metal into steel?"

"Well… likely he could if he wanted to… but the Securitrons outer-plating is an entirely different alloy. Compositionally, it's like a metallic fabric, which is why they're able to repair themselves with their auto-repair system." "… Can you imagine the world before the apocalypse? Shit like the Securitrons and this 'matter transference' technology all over the place, and we still managed to blow ourselves to kingdom come."

"It wasn't all over the place… the United States only just developed the fusion reactor before the Great War, and they hoarded the discovery. They had the potential to stop the resource war, but they didn't. They used the invention against their enemies. So many discoveries just came too late. Fusion reactors, transistors, whatever this new technology Denn has available… they weren't created soon enough to save anything."

"We survived, though. It was one hell of a lesson, and I don't think we're liable to forget it for a long time."

"I'm not so sure…"

"Right… What about this 'Entrant Project?"

"Given the context… I think the Courier is designing his own robots. 'Entrant' is probably meant to mean 'new member,' in this situation."

"If he was going to leave his notes on the project in the database within different entries, why didn't he just include the project in its entirety?"

"It's not exactly plastered on the front or anything like that… I had to do quite a lot of digging to find everything. You're right, though, if he meant for the project to be a secret he would've just wiped every trace of it from the system."

"Maybe he wanted it to be found? I mean… he must've figured you would look into it at some point."

"Am I really that nosey?"

"I would say inquisitive… but yeah, pretty much."

"Weird… any ideas?"

"I think you'll have to ask him… but for the moment, all this techno-babble has removed any question I had on catching some sleep. Try to not stay up too late?"

"This isn't too late?"

"Fine… _too_ too late."

.

* * *

.

 **Lucky 38, Cocktail Lounge**

"It's quite a view."

Boone turned around and smiled at the elderly ghoul.

"Yeah… You can't sleep either?" the sniper asked.

"Naw… the old bones are acting up again," Raul replied. "Figured I'd take a walk and try and tucker myself out."

"Exercise just winds you up more. Here, take a seat."

"Don't mind if I do."

Raul leaned down onto the expansive couch and groaned quietly as the fabric shifted to accommodate him in the most delightful way. The city below the two shone up into the lounge's windows, casting brilliant reflections across the otherwise dark room.

"Hey, do you mind if I ask you a question?" Raul asked finally, shifting forward to sit on the edge of his seat and turn towards his companion.

"Go for it," Boone replied.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier? Not to pry… but it seems like a pretty world-changing thing; finding out Denn is a machine and all."

"Is it?"

"Well… yeah."

"I don't really see it that way. I mean… by the time you met me, I had already traveled with the Courier for close to a year. He went out of his way time and time again to help other people – myself included – no matter what it cost him personally or physically. When he came back, after dealing with all the shit that happened to him, what did he do? Kept helping people. For example… where did he find you again?"

"In a cell working as the handyman to a rather frustrated group of super mutants."

"And he got you out, right?"

"Well, as he tells it, he fixed a robot and it talked down the nightkin leader so the rest of the super mutants headed off towards Jacobstown… but that seems unlikely."

"Whatever he did… why? Why did he help you?"

"Well… he just… yeah, I get your point."

"He just helps people. He couldn't tell me why before, and he probably can't now. Besides, in my opinion it doesn't matter what he's got in his head; he's still as much a man as you or I."

"How do you figure?"

Boone leaned farther forward and gestured for the elderly ghoul to do the same. "Do you know what happened to the White Glove society?" the sniper asked quietly.

"The group of creepily masked weirdos?" Raul responded, matching Boone's volume. "Denn chased them out of the Mojave, right?"

"Yes, but do you know why?"

"No."

"It started after I had learned that Ursus was a 'former' Legion soldier. I told Denn to fuck off and came to the strip to drink myself into a coma. The White Glove society got a tip of who I was from a Legion Frumentarii – at the time they were trying to gain the favor of Caesar, so they drugged me and took me to their basement. You know before House they were cannibals, right? Well, when Denn took over the strip, they figured the chaos was the perfect time to fall into old habits. I woke up in a freezer chained to the wall with a corpse hanging on the other side of the room. Carved to pieces… a young woman, couldn't have been older than twenty."

"Jesus…"

"So I'm sitting there, dropping in and out of consciousness, and who should open the door but Ursus. At the time, I thought he had been informed of where I was and was there to finish me off. Half right, as it turns out; he had led Denn to me. He saved my life. As much as I wish it wasn't the case, that's the truth. Of course he was only able to because he was a Frumentarii agent waiting to double cross us… but I don't think it was personal."

"That's a level response."

"In the end it didn't mean shit of course. The Legion was and is too far-gone to deserve anything but destruction… and Ursus died for it, but I'm getting sidetracked. I'm there chained to the wall and Ursus walks in followed by the Courier. He makes sure I'm okay, and they start taking me down, when all of a sudden, Denn looks to the side and sees this woman – this girl butchered across the wall – and he just stops. He knew her. He's never said how, and I've never asked, but the way he was looking at her was the same way I looked at my wife when I killed her. That hell – that feeling of helplessness – knowing you've failed."

"Unfortunately, I can relate…"

"Your sister, my wife, Veronica's doctor, whoever that woman was to Denn. That loss – that grief followed instantly by rage – it's something the wasteland makes everybody experience… if they live in it long enough, that is. Machine, cyborg, whatever you want to label him as… in that moment, he was as human as its possible to be…"

.

* * *

.

Sarah.

They had taken her eyes, and half of her face had been peeled away, but there was no mistake… it was her.

"Denn?" Ursus asked quietly.

He wanted to go to her, to hold her, but she was gone. More than dead: they had torn at her, ripped into her… fed on her.

A quiet voice pulled through his stunned grief. _You told her this could happen, you tried to protect her, you did everything you could-_

 **NO, I DIDN'T.**

The Courier turned and in an instant was back inside the kitchen. A small man started angrily as he walked into the room at the same time.

"How _dare_ you break into my-"

The Courier picked up a butcher knife from the counter beside him and sent it flying through the air into the irate newcomer's chest. Denn walked forward as the man fell to his knees in shock and kicked his foot against the knife, completely embedding the massive blade into the man's sternum as he crumpled to the floor.

.

* * *

.

" _Who told you who she was?!"_

Mortimer shrieked in response, pain overwhelming his ability to reply, so the Courier threw him to the ground and slammed his foot into the screaming man's throat. Moving away from the twitching body, he stalked slowly towards the leader of the White Glove Society.

His target, Marjorie, was pressed against the exit to the room with a cluster of people behind her desperately trying to force the doorway open. Seizing a woman at the back of the group by the hair, the Courier threw her to the side, ripping a handful of blonde strands out in the process. A second member of the mob spun around and desperately raised his hardened cane to strike out against the Courier. Denn's blow against the man's jaw obliterated half of his face and snapped his head to the side so forcefully that he fell to the ground in a heap.

The rest of the White Glove Society dispersed, and as Marjorie tried to follow suit, the Courier seized her and slammed her back against the heavy wooden door.

" _Who told you who she was?!"_

 _"_ We… we didn't know she was anybody! She was given to us, a gift, we don't know from who!"

" _You ate her._ _ **YOU FUCKING ATE HER!**_ _"_

"Please… oh God, please…"

Ignoring her pleading, the Courier turned and carried her to the center of the chaotic dining area.

" ** _QUIET!_** _"_ the Courier roared, and the room fell silent. " _Any White Glove Society member found in the Mojave by the end of tomorrow will be killed._ _ **You have twenty-six hours.**_ _"_

Turning his attention back to the woman in his arms, he took a running start and viciously threw her through the locked doors of the exit. The slam of the heavy wood crashing open was accompanied by the sound of a brutal snap.

The members of the White Glove Society rushed through the doorway, few of them bothering to step over their fallen leader. The Courier clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to chase after them, and it was only after the last masked individual had sprinted out of sight that he allowed himself to turn his attention back to the battered woman on the ground.

She was still moving.

As he approached, she pushed herself up, her face bruised and bleeding. "Please… I… I can't feel my legs," she whispered weakly.

The Courier kneeled down, his eyes meeting hers.

"Then you had better start crawling.

.

* * *

.

"Have you tried talking to him about what happened?"

"I wanted to, but… he just never stopped long enough, you know? After that night, he was everywhere. He infiltrated the Omertas and assassinated their leadership while at the same time locking down the Strip and rooting out all of Caesar's Frumentarii. At the time, I thought it was just a matter of time before he crashed, but… it never happened."

"I guess the whole part-machine thing explains that."

"Maybe… I kept waiting for him to slow down so I could talk things through, but he's always avoided the subject when I try to bring it up."

"He needs to confront it."

"I know… I just… don't know how to help."

Denn shut off his uplink, opening his eyes as the stream of his friend's conversation from elsewhere in the Lucky 38 faded from his mind. He had made his way to his personal quarters as he eavesdropped, but hesitated at the room's entryway. Finally, he keyed open the door and stepped inside. The Courier stood in silence as the lights within lit up automatically, revealing various relics that lined the shelved walls. His gaze landed on a snow globe in the corner or the room, and he walked towards it as if in a trance. Picking up the glass object, he gave it a small shake, stirring up the memento's contents as clouds of white flakes covered the miniature Vegas Strip contained within.

A few steps took him to a padded armchair, and as he sank down into the furniture, Denn did something he rarely allowed himself to do… he slept.

.

* * *

.

"Do you always have to sneak over here?"

"You know I do."

"I just never get any sleep when you're around."

"Are you complaining?"

"Well… only a little. Now scoot that chassis over and give me some more room."

"Hey, hold on. This isn't just a personal visit… I won't be able to come see you for awhile."

"What? Why not?"

"Things are getting too dangerous. If anybody finds out who you are to me…"

"And what's that?"

"A very special person."

"Oh, is that all-"

"No teasing; this is serious. They'll hurt you to get to me, and I have to protect you. It can't be too obvious, but I'll have two Securitrons at the opposite side of the street. If you ever feel like you're in danger, get to them as quickly as possible; they'll protect you."

"You haven't suggested I come to live with you in the Lucky 38."

"Because I know you'll say no. This is your home."

"I'm sorry… I know you worry, but…"

"I know. It's not something you can leave, and I can't lock you away like a princess in it."

"You're damn right you can't."

"So this is the best decision. Once I've negotiated with the White Glove Society and the Omertas, it should be safe enough to see you again… but until that time…"

"I know. Well, if that's all, I understand you have a busy schedule to get to."

"What?!"

"This was a business visit, right? Make sure to close the door on your way out."

"I said it wasn't _just_ a personal visit! It can be both!"

"Oh? In that case…"

.

* * *

.

" _Sarah!_ " Denn cried out, jolting up and causing the snow globe on his lap to hit the floor and roll away from him.

He could still feel her… her touch, breath, and heat as if she had just been in the room with him.

He was alone.

The Courier took his head in his hands and gritted his teeth angrily. His memories of her were perfect, his dreams as close to the real thing as possible, but he always had to wake up. No matter how long he slept, no matter how many times he relived his time with her… she was gone.

Nothing he ever did would bring her any closer than his dreams.

 _You loved her,_ a voice inside his head stated.

Yes.

 _And she loved you._

Yes.

 _So we carry on._

For her?

 _For her._

The Courier rose, carefully moving forward and picking up the fallen snow globe. Smiling sadly, he turned the memento over to read the inscription on its base.

 _'Make it whole again, make it right – SW'_

Returning the globe to the shelf, Denn straightened his back and connected to the Lucky 38's systems, immediately getting in contact to the Ultra Lux's front desk to inform them to send over the first group of dignitaries.

He had a lot of work to do.

.

* * *

.

 **This history of Denn has been coming for awhile and I had to get it out. Trying to work out how it would feel to experience this has been... draining.**

 **A big part of me wants to write a completely 'happy ending' type of story but... it's just not in the cards**

 **Sorry if the chapter sucks, but I can't sit on it anymore.**

 **Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a good day.**


	22. Chapter 21 - Lucky 38 II

**.**

 **October 24th, 2281, 7:34 a.m.**

 **Lucky 38, New Vegas**

"Did we have to do this so early?" the King asked wearily, shielding his eyes as the Courier returned to sitting with his back facing the suite's window.

"I thought you'd appreciate going first," the Courier replied, as the glass behind him turned opaque. The King blinked repeatedly and glanced around the expansive room as the light reached an acceptable level.

"Not one for decorating?" the leader of Freeside asked, commenting on the lack of any major fixture beyond the desk before him and its two chairs.

"The existing décor was decidedly… grandiose when I moved in," Denn answered, smiling at his friend. "I prefer function over form, and it saves the hassle of dusting… for the most part."

The King laughed for a moment before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "So what do you want from me?" he asked, eyes meeting the Courier's.

"I want you to join with the rest of the Mojave and help build a lasting nation," Denn replied.

"Under your control?"

"Hopefully not… I'd rather the existing communities step up and control their own areas. In regards to the Mojave at large, or more specifically the land not claimed by any one settlement, that will be my responsibility, yes."

"So we get taxed to use your roads?"

"Once I repave them and they become my roads, maybe. Hopefully the tourists from the NCR are numerous enough that this is not necessary."

"Already repaving the roads are you?"

"Once we start tearing down the wreckages of the existing infrastructure… well… that's a conversation for another time. I know you want Freeside to remain independent, and it will. The city will be entirely under your control."

"Sounds too good to be true…"

"It is. There is a catch."

"Ah-huh. What's the catch?"

"The NCR wants this land. It mainly wants New Vegas, but it will take over everything it can get its claws into, given the opportunity. I can't keep them out by myself, and to be frank, your gang isn't going to dissuade them any more than my Securitrons will. I blindsided them, caught them unaware, but if they bring about the entire strength of their military-"

"NCR soldiers aren't anything special."

"The _real_ NCR soldiers are fighting the Brotherhood of Steel – forcing them to hide in the bunkers and even pushing them out of those. It didn't seem odd to you that most of the soldiers sent to the Mojave had barely seen two weeks of training? Real NCR soldiers… the likes of the First Recon and the Rangers – organized, disciplined, trained – those soldiers could stand up to my Securitrons, even defeat them if they had the numbers. You've experienced what real soldiers can do when Swank got a little heavy-handed in his treatment of the refugees."

"Easy… he was my second through a hell of a lot."

"I know… I'm sorry. My point is, the NCR will eventually realize they can take the Mojave in its current state, and unless I have help, I can't keep them from it."

"So we agree to help out if or when they invade?"

"Unfortunately, that won't be enough. Against a trained force, the ragtag defenders of the Mojave's communities will be easily picked apart. We need soldiers. What I need is a percentage of your city's population to be trained… by me."

"What kind of training?"

"Survival, first aid, combat tactics, weapon repair, physical conditioning-"

"So wait… I let you teach my guys how to fight and I get to keep control of Freeside? What happens if I say no?"

"If you say no, I will do what is best for the Mojave. Right now the Eastern route from the NCR into New Vegas is dangerous. The Brotherhood of Steel, deathclaws, raiders, and potentially the Legion threaten it. The Western route, however, has been almost cleared of potential hazards, with only the Brotherhood presence being an issue. Making the Western route the main path to Vegas would turn Westside into the gateway to the city."

"Leaving Freeside with whatever refuse streams in on the East… You mother fucker."

"It's the situation I am faced with. Westside doesn't need the traffic; they're surviving with what the wasteland provides and happy to do it. Freeside, however, needs the trade. If you join the rest of the Mojave, I will make the Eastern route safe, as well as focusing my repaving efforts on it, keeping Freeside as the main entrance to New Vegas."

"Now… leading with that in the 'this is what I will do for you' section of the conversation could have saved you some air."

"I thought the 'worst case scenario' was necessary, and better left to the end… but I'll keep that in mind for the future."

"Well… It sounds good to me," the King said, standing and raising his hand towards the Courier.

Denn's eyebrows rose slightly. "That's it?" he asked. "You don't want any assurances or bargaining chips or-"

"As much as you are trying to keep from saying it, I don't really have a choice," the King admitted, smiling wryly. "Freeside isn't big enough to stand on its own, and if I let my pride get in the way, we'll sink right to the bottom of the pecking order again. There may come a time my city can stand on its own, and when that time comes, your actions will decide whether or not it stays a member of your 'Mojave.' If you keep that in mind, we shouldn't have any problems."

Denn smiled under his rebreather and nodded, reaching out and clasping the King's hand tightly. "Glad to have you onboard," he said lightly.

"So, what're you calling this new nation anyway?"

"Well, I was thinking…"

.

* * *

.

"The United Mojave?" The armored woman asked warily, squinting at the Courier.

"Yes," Denn answered, looking up at the woman who had declined his invitation to sit. "I wish to stress that the Boomers will be left entirely alone, as long as you provide an instructor for rudimentary explosive training and supply fire-support if the Mojave should fall under attack."

"And what of our deal for the bombing run at the dam?"

The Courier nodded and focused internally. After a moment, the door behind the woman slid open and an elderly figure sauntered through it. Daisy skipped forward and gave the wide-eyed, armored woman a tight hug.

"Why, you must be Raquel," the former Enclave pilot stated happily as she pushed herself an arm's length away and smiled up into the other woman's rapidly blinking eyes. "The Courier tells me you're a regular ace when it comes to the virtual reality sims."

Raquel nodded, eyebrows still refusing to return from their lofty position.

"Well that's good," Daisy said, taking the armored woman's hand and beginning to lead her out of the room. "We'll get started then."

"Wait," Raquel protested. "My meeting with the Courier-"

"Can wait until another time," Denn said, waving the woman out the door. "For now, my focus is the communities who need my help, and the Boomers do not. I'll stay in contact with Pearl and let you know if anything comes up."

"Then it's settled," Daisy declared, continuing to pull the younger woman out of the room. "Now, I assume your group is rearing to high-tail it out of here?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well, how about I give you a ride then? You know what they say, no sense walking if you can fly."

Denn laughed as the door closed behind the pair, muffling the stuttered utterances of the overwhelmed master-at-arms.

.

* * *

.

"Doctor, it's good to see you."

"Hello there, Courier. I take it you remember Miss. Trudy?"

"Of course. How is the wasteland treating you two?"

"Not as well as the place you set us up in. Tell me, were those real feather pillows?"

"Synthetic, but I'm glad they were comfortable enough to be comparable."

"Incredible… do you know if there's any place I can pick up a pair of them?"

"Absolutely. When you leave I can actually-"

.

* * *

.

"Marcus, Keene, I'm glad you could make it."

"Glad to be here, Courier. Congratulations on your victory over the Legion."

"And the NCR – before they were even your enemies – efficient."

"Thank you both. I hope your visit to New Vegas hasn't been too trying."

"Humans left us alone, for most part. Enjoyed watching them play… 'poke-her."

"Keene insisted on doing reconnaissance within the Ultra Lux. It was actually hard to find him in the morning."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Now… on to matters at hand."

.

* * *

.

"No."

"Would you like to stay another night to reconsid-"

"No. North Vegas says no."

"Give me a chance to-"

"May I leave?"

"… As you will."

"Thank you."

 _Well geeze, you should really work on being more personable._ Yes Man commented internally

So should he. Who's next?

 _Someone looking for a fight…_

.

* * *

 _._

Denn looked out over the city, or at least stood facing the window with his back to the rest of the room. In actuality, his attention was internal as he surveyed the area behind him from the many cameras spread across the walls.

The door slid open and a woman stepped into the room. Her hair was pulled back tight against her scalp with an ornate clasp and her outfit was just as taught as her hair, it's searing red fabric lying flush against her body. The apparel accentuated her curves and pulled at the lines of her feminine figure.

Even through the digital medium of his cameras, Denn found his attention forced into following those lines to their logical conclusion. The woman slowed as the Courier failed to react to her presence, her stance changing from assured confidence to cool wariness.

"My victory changes nothing," Denn stated, still facing away from the woman as he spoke. "Keep your operation within the Gomorrah and you will have free reign, but never forget that Vegas is mine. Am I clear?"

The woman smiled at the Courier, but her eyes refused to reflect the gesture – grey irises cold.

"You may go," Denn said after a moment. The woman spun around and made her way to the door, ripping the clasp from her hair to let the black tresses fall across her shoulders.

"The next time you bring a bomb into the Lucky 38, I will detonate it, instead of deactivating it," the Courier said quietly, finally turning to face the woman as she froze, her arm held mid-motion as she had been preparing to toss the intricate accessory to the side.

The feminine figure turned. Slowly, she began to break the clasp into pieces, staring into Denn's eyes as she did. The Courier leapt over the desk and bolted across the room, slamming the woman against the door and breaking her hold on the clasp.

The ornament fell to the ground, two vials of liquid breaking free of the makeshift explosive and clattering to the ground. The woman's eyes followed the clasp's fall, and she seemed disappointed when the vials failed to break apart. "Well, maybe next time then," she whispered through painted lips.

"Your life for mine?" Denn asked, disbelievingly.

"Better than your pawn," she answered.

"You are not my pawn."

"Aren't I? A piece of your puzzle – put in the place where I will serve you best. A… cog in _your_ machine?"

The Courier released the woman, stepping away from her as she smiled at his response.

 _Well that was clearly intentional word choice… not good!_ Yes Man stated.

Quite. She knows. If she dies the Omertas will likely spread the knowledge, but for now she's keeping it to herself for some reason. Yet… she tries to kill me outright. Why?

 _Insanity? Not much you could do about that… Maybe it's a desire to have control… Play into it?_

"Go," the Courier demanded, standing stiff at attention with his eyebrows creased with uncertainty.

The woman's lips pursed as her smile deepened, exiting the room without another word.

Denn relaxed and shook his head, hoping he had appeared genuine in his response.

 _Humans, am I right? You'd think she'd be more supportive after you gave her a casino._

It's all she's known. You know she killed off a third of the Omertas when I gave her control.

 _I know. Don't know why, though._

Same reason the number of prostitutes halved overnight. Getting women hooked on drugs so they became dependent on the Omertas support was standard procedure. Giving Lady Stone the reins stopped that, at the cost of a third of their number. All she cares about is the wellbeing of her "family."

 _Which necessitates the destruction of the man who put her in power?_

She's dependent on me. I control the gates, I control the peacekeepers, and I control her supply of goods. From her perspective, I'm as bad as the pimps that kept her girls hooked. She lives and dies at my will, and that infuriates her. On the flipside, giving her free-reign – encouraging anarchy – would be problematic to say the least.

 _So why give her control instead of just taking over yourself? Heck, use a figurehead and rule by proxy._

It's an eventuality I have prepared for.

 _And her attacking you doesn't turn that eventuality into actuality?_

It probably should.

 _But doesn't._

No.

 _Why?_

She honestly cares for her family. I say I do as well, but it's impersonal. I care about them because of the part they play in the future; she cares about them because she is responsible for them. She'd die for them, and that makes her well-suited to the position. That level of personal attachment is also dangerous when misguided, but as long as I maintain my distance and let her keep her family safe, I hope she'll learn to trust me.

 _What stage is 'bombing' in that trust-building exercise?_

Depending on the detonation, it's either one step back or a hard reset…

.

* * *

.

 **Hidden Valley Bunker, 23 miles South of New Vegas**

"What do you mean you can't access the system?"

"I'm sorry, Elder, I tried to send your response to Lost Hills, but…"

 _The clock is ticking…_

"What's that? Why is it saying that?"

"It's one of the responses of the virus that was plaguing our databases two years ago."

"The virus that the Courier helped us find…"

"Yes sir… he must have modified it without any of us knowing. If it's been sitting in the system since then. It must have been programmed to watch our communications and activate after the right conditions had been met."

"Or after a certain amount of time had elapsed."

"Either scenario is unsettling. Either he has intimate knowledge of our systems, or he predicted the events of the past two years so accurately that he knew exactly when we would respond to the confrontation at Hoover Dam."

"What can you do?"

"I can get started at getting through the virus… but that will take-"

 _Time's up. 3:00:00_

"What's that mean? What's that timer?"

"I don't–it's the self-destruct system! He's bypassed the safety protocols and activated it!"

"Fuck…"

 _Time's up. 2:59:49_

"Can the virus actually detonate the charges?"

"I… I don't know. It's already started the process, so it stands to reason that it's possible."

"Can we get to the charges?"

"By design, no."

"Tell Hardin we're leaving."

"Sir, what if it's a bluff?"

"We can't call it."

"A few scribes could stay behind and…"

"I'm not risking any more lives on this. It was my mistake to allow the Courier access to our systems, and it has compromised our position. I will take full responsibility, but now we need to get out of the Mojave. Hopefully the NCR is disorganized enough that we can get to Broken Hills without further problems."

 _Time's up. 2:59:18_

"Time is of the essence, Scribe Taggart."

"Yes, Elder, apologies."

.

* * *

 **.**

 **Mountain Spring Pass, 23 miles Southwest of New Vegas**

"Charges are set."

"Bout fucking time."

"Hey, you could have helped out."

"And have nobody watching for Cazadors?"

"Yeah, alright… so now we just wait 'til they walk over and 'boom?"

"Nope. If they walk through and none of 'em stay, we leave it at that, and get to keep the charges, too."

"Damn… really?"

"Yeah, sounds like the best plan for everyone involved."

"And if some do stay?"

"Knock 'em out, light 'em up."

"Sounds good to me."

.

* * *

.

 **Sorry for the delay. Had to come to terms with some things about the story. Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading, all the pleasantries.**


	23. Chapter 22 - Lucky 38 III

**.**

 **October 24th, 2281, 12:32 p.m.**

 **Lucky 38, New Vegas**

" _Standing at the front, defending the Courier's defenseless soldiers, this lone Ranger-"_

"What's all this then?" Veronica grumbled, skulking into the room and rubbing her eyes wearily.

" _-defeating Legion soldier after Legion soldier."_

Denn silenced the tape, and Veronica found herself watching a birds-eye view of the last skirmish on the Hoover Dam the day before. "Good afternoon!" the Courier said happily, and the former brotherhood scribe could swear that the man was smiling under his rebreather. "It seems you've become something of a celebrity overnight."

"Bullshit…"

"No, really! Looks like Kimball administration is desperate to put a positive spin on the events on the Dam, and have… cut and repurposed the complete footage I broadcasted to create their own propaganda."

"That's nice… but why does that make me a celebrity?"

"Remember that suit of Ranger armor that Walters let you use?"

"Yeah… and?"

"Well…"

"Wait… they think I'm a Ranger?"

"Bingo."

"And I 'defended the Courier's helpless soldiers."

"Oh yes! Guess their nickname for you."

"Oh God…"

"Not even close. 'The Iron Ranger."

"Oh! Well… that's not that bad."

"Thought you might like it. Shame you're dead, though."

"What?"

Denn turned the volume of the video back up.

" _And the Iron Ranger lays dead, the Courier's response too late to save the soldier who gave her all to defend his ill-prepared defenses."_

"Well shit… I guess that fame didn't last long. Do they not see me get up?"

"Fortunately, the clip I sent pans forward to keep track of the battle."

"Why is that fortunate?"

"They turned you into a martyr, in a way, to make me look incompetent. Most of the time it's a nuisance when a martyr comes back to life, but when they come back and turn out to be working for the person you're trying to discredit? Well… that's just too tempting of a situation for me to pass up."

"So are you gonna' stick me in a cave for three days before popping the door open with the Cameras rolling? I could work on pretending to float in the air – seen a street magician do it in New Vegas before."

"Nothing so dramatic. What we are going to do is do a little propaganda of our own…"

.

* * *

.

"Hunter."

"Red Lucy."

The leader of the Thorn stalked into the room, her approach controlled as she closed on the Courier's desk. Denn stood as she approached and reached out his hand in greeting, allowing Red Lucy to ignore the gesture entirely as she set herself down comfortably in the padded guest chair.

"As you may have heard by now," Denn began, returning to his seat, "I am looking to unite the Mojave into a single community for increased safety and…"

"When will you return to fight for the Thorn?" Red Lucy asked suddenly.

The Courier frowned at the interruption, leaning back in his chair. "Unfortunately, my responsibilities in New Vegas are substantial, and it will be quite some time before I am able to-"

"We had an agreement."

"We _have_ an agreement, and I will honor it, but the Mojave is at too pivotal a moment for me to take the time to fight for the Thorn right now."

Red Lucy nodded, and, just as Denn registered the smile spreading across her normally stoic features, erupted into motion, flipping the desk between them towards the Courier. In the instant before the piece of furniture slammed into him, Denn managed to send the chair he was sitting on sliding away, keeping it from tripping him up as he braced himself against the rapidly approaching furnishing. Catching the desk as best he could, any semblance of balance his action had gained him was almost completely lost when Red Lucy slammed into the far side, forcing the Courier to desperately backpedal to keep himself upright.

The two combatants raced across the room, the leader of the Thorn unrelenting in her pressure and Denn unable to regain strong enough footing to press back. As they approached the room's floor-to-ceiling window, a metal cover slammed down on the outside of it. The Courier smashed into the reinforced glass, cracking it and reminding him why having a fully aware AI keeping tabs on him wasn't that bad, Yes Man having probably saved him from sailing through the window into a freefall to the city below.

Bracing against the glass, Denn forced the desk back towards Red Lucy. The leader of the Thorn's eyes bore into his own, radiating a blazing hunger.

"I will know your strength," Red Lucy whispered, locking her arms and stopping the desk cold.

The Courier complied with her request, dropping one arm and grabbing the bottom of the desk to send the furnishing flying to the side. As the object flew away, Red Lucy filled the space it had left, sending her fist up to smash into the Courier's rebreather. The device's strap held, but it was pushed up and to the side, awkwardly covering the right half of Denn's face.

Unable to dance back away from his adversary, the Courier pushed off the glass behind him and leapt at Red Lucy. The woman avoided his attempt to tackle her, but Denn didn't halt his momentum, turning his dive into a roll as he undid the clip of his rebreather, letting it fall free of his body. As he completed his roll, he turned, just in time for the leader of the Thorn slam into him with a leap of her own, though their choices of trajectories were slightly different. Red Lucy elected to jump up and wrap her legs around Denn's neck, twisting to change her momentum at the apex of the motion so that when she released her hold she sent the Courier spinning out of control to hit the ground with a resounding thud.

The attack, however, failed to disorient the Courier as it would have a normal human being, and as Red Lucy landed beside him, Denn spun, kicking his legs out against the woman. Caught unaware by the Courier's sudden recovery, Red Lucy fell to the ground in a heap. Before she could manage a recovery of her own, Denn was on top of her, doing his best to lock up her arms with his own. A sudden head-butt drove the Courier back, and with seemingly impossible flexibility, the leader of the Thorn wrapped her legs around Denn's neck and shoulder. Pulling the Courier's arm towards her, Red Lucy strengthened the headlock and prevented Denn from freeing himself.

The combatants gazes locked – their inhalations and exhalations short and ragged as their bodies strained one against the other. After a moment, the Courier pulled one of his legs forward from its kneeling position and Red Lucy's eyes widened as the man began to lift her from the ground. As they rose, the leader of the Thorn tried to free herself from the grapple, but Denn locked her in place with his own arms and, as he reached his full height, reversed his direction to send the woman crashing to the ground.

Stars erupted through Red Lucy's head as her breath was forced from her body. She tried to regain the lock around the other combatant, but was too dazed to prevent the Courier from gaining control. The instant it took to clear her mind was all he needed, and when the leader of the Thorn's senses returned, she was locked in place.

Red Lucy struggled to free herself, but Denn increased the pressure on her body in response and pain shot through her veins. The leader of the Thorn froze, realizing she was at the Courier's mercy. Electricity raced through her body following the realization, just as intense as the pain from a moment before and her pupils dilated as they stared up at the man above her. She had almost had him.

Denn's eyes widened as the woman beneath him pressed her body into his in a decidedly non-combative way. The Courier quickly realized the unintended intimacy of their embrace.

A few seconds later, Lucy stared up at the ceiling of the room and frowned, the Courier having ejected from their grapple as quickly as he could, leaving the strength of his grasp a phantom against her skin. She could hear his ragged breathing matching her own as his footsteps moved over to his discarded rebreather. Shortly thereafter, he returned to her field of view, and their eyes met as they stared at one another in silence.

Finally Denn reached out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Lucy clasped it.

"If at all possible could you please listen to what I have to say without diving for my throat?" the Courier asked as he helped the leader of the Thorn rise to her feet.

Lucy chuckled as she moved to the far side of the room, inspecting the broken glass of the Courier's earlier impact.

"I need soldiers," Denn continued, taking her silence (as well as the lack of further violence) as permission to proceed, "and the people of Westside are ideal candidates."

"Of course they are," Lucy stated, glancing behind her towards the Courier. "They've seen you fight."

"As had you," Denn responded, "yet you still attacked me."

"You're worried they'll see in you a challenge? An entity to defeat, overcome… or replace?"

"Given the response of one of their leaders, it's not that far off a conclusion to think some of them might see it that way."

"Well… Could they overcome you?"

"No."

"Then why concern yourself?"

"Because some of them might try to."

"Those that will, will. There is no 'might' or 'maybes' in the wasteland. Anyone from Westside who thinks they can take you, will take you. Or…" Lucy paused, turning back to the broken glass, "do their best to."

"So you don't think I have anything to worry about?"

"You do, but from the people of Westside, no more than I. Some respect you, some are in awe of you, but most of all they fear you – fear the strength you have – and that will keep all but the most foolhardy from rising against you."

"Does that make you foolhardy?"

"Does it? If I wanted you dead the first blow against you would have been with a knife."

"If you had wanted me dead the defenses in this room would have turned you to ash before the strike fell."

"Then it seems neither of us wants the other dead."

"Though for strikingly different reasons…"

"Not so different," Lucy stated, turning and begging to stalk towards the Courier. "You want me, I want you. There are few things more simple in this world than that."

"What we want from each other is not quite the same," Denn replied, holding his ground.

"Is it? Why?" Lucy's voice quieted as she approached, and her words fell from her lips in a hoarse whisper. "Why not experience the reward our strength deserves? Take what we have earned – experience what little pleasure this world provides?"

The Courier outstretched his hand, physically keeping the leader of the Thorn from approaching any further. "You are an influential leader in a major city of which I am trying to develop a trusting relationship with," Denn said factually. "To… engage in such distractions would-"

"Be worth it," the woman interrupted, taking the Courier's hand in her own and bringing it to her face, turning it to cup it against her burning cheek.

"I… can't," The Courier stated, pulling his hand away and stepping back from the leader of the Thorn.

"The wasteland takes from us all," Lucy replied, frowning at the man before her, "but you let that loss control your life. You risk so much for the future of others, yet fear repeating your past so much you ignore the present. Life is what happens between the pain the wasteland forces us to experience. Take control or waste what life you have."

Silence fell between them, the Courier's forehead creased as he considered the woman's words. Sighing, Lucy moved to the overturned desk and inspected it, leaving Denn with his thoughts.

 _That's two women who've attacked you today! Want me to call up Cass to try and make it a hat trick?_ Yes Man interjected.

Is she wrong? Denn asked.

 _Given what I've seen and what the heat sensors in the room are telling me… I don't think she's entirely unbiased, but that alone doesn't discredit her statement._

Everyone I've loved has been hurt because of me.

 _I don't think she's asking for love, but then I'm not an authority on the subject. Also, there're few people who could hurt her without a heck of a fight… from what I've seen._

You just want to record more people procreating…

 _It's my due diligence to document the happenings within this establishment! And she's not wrong about your loss influencing other aspects of your life…_

You're not wrong either.

"In two weeks time I will return to Westside and fight in the Thorn," Denn stated, breaking the silence. "Until then, I ask that you consider helping me train the first wave of soldiers, as they will become the leaders of the Mojave's army."

"Unless it is your army," Lucy began, turning towards the Courier, "you will not have many volunteers. Westside values strength, and you have proven yours. The rest of the Mojave, however…"

"Understood. Is there any other way I can be of service at this time?"

Lucy's lips pursed for a moment before returning to their stoic line and the woman shook her head. "My hunters and I collected large amounts of Cazador venom," she stated finally. "More than we can reasonably use. Would it be of use to you?"

"It would. Thank you."

"They are an entity like none I have ever encountered. Survival is not their motivation, causing agony and death is."

"Their origin is likely the cause of that."

"Origin?"

"They were created by scientists who survived the Great War. Mutated and shaped into what they are today. Most likely intended to serve as combat fodder – a living weapon."

Lucy frowned, processing the revelation for a moment. Shaking her head, the leader of the Thorn bowed slightly to the Courier and began to walk out of the room, her eyes lost in thought. Denn watched her leave in silence, his description of the Cazadores reminding him that their creation wasn't that much different from his own.

.

* * *

.

 **Poll has run its course - almost unanimously sticking with a single story that focuses on the Mojave. The infrequency of updates already makes multiple stories a daunting prospect, so I agree with the results. Thank you for everyone who gave their input, and I'll do my best to update more often moving forward!**


	24. Chapter 23

.

 **October 24** **th** **, 2281, 6:05 p.m.  
Lucky 38, New Vegas**

"Never thought I'd make it up here."

The Courier turned, smiling under his rebreather as Benny walked into the room. The former leader of the Chairmen was adorned with his signature-checkered suit and a rather large pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. As the door behind him slid shut, Benny hooked a lightweight cane under his arm and walked towards the only other individual in the room.

Denn's smile deepened as the man moved right beside him, stopping before the room's glass window. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you could see better than I can," the Courier quipped.

"Are you kidding? I was terrified you'd have a knee-high table somewhere in this room and I'd smash my face into the dirt," Benny replied, reaching out a hand towards Denn. "From what I've heard, congratulations are in order."

"Seems a little too early to celebrate to me," the Courier replied, mirroring Benny's gesture and shaking his hand solidly.

"You've got most of the Mojave playing nice, or pretending to anyway. Only other guy to ever get close to doing that was House, and he did it with threat of force."

"Isn't that threat still there? His Securitrons haven't gone anywhere, just changed hands."

"True… but House's approach was… cocksure, you dig? He pointed a gun at every stiff around before offering peace, not giving much of a choice to anybody involved. You're offering peace first, while the threat of force is implied, for the most part."

"An approach I was only able to use because of what he did before me. Most of what I've accomplished is due to his work."

"And most of the worst shit you've had to deal with was because of him. The White Glove Society and the saps formally know as the Omertas were only a problem because House underestimated them and didn't see what damage they could do."

"Seems like his biggest problem came from a different family, surprisingly."

"Yeah yeah, remind me of the time I shot you in the head again why don't you."

Denn laughed, crossing his arms and staring at the ground. "You know the weird part?" He asked quietly. "If you hadn't shot me in the head, I would still be running around the wasteland happily delivering packages and solving small-town problems."

"Sounds peaceful, but in reality all that would have done is given you a front-row seat to Caesar's Vegas," Benny stated.

"You think the NCR or House couldn't have held him off?"

"The NCR never treated the Legion with the respect it needed. Troops fresh off the farm with a set of shitty digs and a rifle they could barely use? Would've been chewed apart by the screaming fanatics Caesar had brainwashed. Without you, the Legion's defeat at the First Battle of Hoover Dam would have looked the biggest crapshoot the Mojave's ever seen after he kicked the shit out of 'em at the second one. Now, if Caesar had kept pushing west – tried his luck at taking the NCR on their home turf – that's a different game. Only reason NCR was here anyway was for the money; no soul in the fight for them. Have that same situation in the homeland? You've got a nation more than a million strong barreling down onto you, and this time they've got a reason to fight."

"What about House?"

"House was too smart, but too stupid to realize it. The guy had convinced himself he knew Vegas after watching the people living in it go about our business for a year or two – figured he knew what made us tick and could keep us controlled while he skimmed off the top. Guy might've saved the city, hell, might've run it clean two hundred years ago, but he bit off more than he could deal with when he took the reins. Maybe without Caesar or the NCR breathing down his neck, his plan might've worked, but as it was? I was just the first dumbass to move against him. With the Omertas bombing the strip and the White Glove Society going back to their roots, Caesar would've shut him down cleaner than you did."

"Is that why you moved against him?"

"I moved against him because I was the biggest Goddamn idiot on the Strip. I knew that he'd fucked up, and sooner or later someone was gonna' take him down, so I thought that someone might as well be me. With the whisperings between the families about the deals Caesar was looking to make, I just _knew_ it'd be easy to keep control of the Strip after the Legion took the Mojave. Turned out I was wrong, and thank God I was."

"Why do you say that?"

"I may not feel proud of what I did, shooting you in the head, but if I got sent back to that exact same moment, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Might not've been for the right reason, but you were sure as hell were the right person to have that done to them. Whatever path that bullet sent you down saved this city… hell, saved the entire Mojave. When I was sitting in Caesar's camp getting tortured by that sick cunt, I knew I had doomed every last one of my friends to the same fate or worse. Never thought anybody would be able to stop that from happening, and not in my wildest dreams did I think it could've been you. Point is… you're the best person around to run this joint, you dig?"

"What if I wasn't."

"Well that's just pointless thinking. You are and-"

"No, what if I wasn't a person? A human, that is."

Benny straightened, tilting his head to the side as his eyebrows creased behind his glasses. "Run that by me again?"

"What if I wasn't a human being?"

"Am I speaking to a Brahmin right now? I was being serious. If you can't appreciate that, I'll just-"

"I am being serious. If it turned out I wasn't, strictly speaking, human, what would that mean?"

"If you're not human, what are you?"

"Technically, I'm a machine."

"You got implants? Most everybody with a couple thousand caps to blow has at least-"

"Most of my major organs have been replaced with artificial ones and my consciousness is manifested within a complex computer system."

"What the fuck? How does that even work?"

"No idea. Can't crack myself open to take a look because there's no guarantee I'd be able to put everything back together again."

"What about the person who created you, can't they tell you?"

"Dead. They attacked me; I defended myself."

"How… never mind. Doesn't matter. Why the fuck are you telling me this?"

"Stone knows, somehow, and maybe more worrying, Caesar knew. I think someone told them, but have no idea who it could be."

"Who else knew you were a robot?"

"At the time, only two other people, and if they're telling secrets, I've got bigger problems than people finding out my brain is a glorified toaster."

"I bet. First of all, fuck you for getting me involved."

"Happy to."

"Second, the minute it gets out, you've got to jump ahead of it. Specifics, demonstrations, hell, go on a stand-up comedy tour, anything to show you're not a danger. If enough time passes between then and now that might be enough, you'll have your actions to back you up. Letting the individual communities govern themselves was a good call, but that in itself could potentially cause a whole bunch of new problems if this should get out."

"Why do you say that?"

"You invite the leaders of all the communities in the Mojave for a one-on-one, and afterword most of them agree to be a part of your 'United Mojave?' Anyone with half a share of sense knows it's a good call, but if it comes out you're a machine, those with less than half a share will think that you replaced their leaders with robots to do your bidding."

"Wouldn't that make everything easier, though?"

"If you try and assimilate me into some kind of collective I am done. I may be blind, but I can still punch you in the face and jump out this window."

Denn glanced to the side, deciding not to comment on the metal plates on the outside of the glass. "I'm sorry, it's not a laughing matter," the Courier said.

"Honestly? It kind of is," Benny commented. "Town's already turned upside down, and your being a robot is a hell of a post script. Hell, maybe a machine in control is what we need."

"Maybe. For what it's worth, I think you wouldn't be too terrible, given the reins of Vegas."

"If I had my eyes… maybe. Shame it took me losing them to learn how the world really spins."

"Do you want to see again?"

"… I bet this is how you trick people into becoming robots…"

"But if it's not…"

"You pulling my leg or should we start talking caps?"

"How about favors?"

"Fuck."

.

* * *

.

 **9:21 p.m.**

"So where're we going?" Veronica asked, shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet in the tiny elevator.

"Below the Lucky 38 there is a substantial manufacturing complex. We're headed to the factory floor," Denn replied, absentmindedly fiddling with his Pip-Boy.

"What kind of manufacturing?"

"The complex can be repurposed easily, so pretty much anything the Mojave needs."

"Sounds game-changing. So why aren't you pumping out thousands of Securitrons?"

"There are limitations."

"Like raw materials?

"Surprisingly, that's not one of them."

"Color me intrigued!"

"I know you found my files."

"You're no fun. So… do you really have a way to transform matter into other-"

"Truth be told, it's something you should see for yourself," Denn interrupted, holding his arm out as the elevator stopped and its door opened suddenly.

A whirling assembly of mechanized construction was crammed into the room outside of the elevator. The space was a couple hundred meters large with a surprisingly high ceiling, yet seemed insanely cramped as almost every available surface was covered by equipment of varying complexity and purpose. Veronica covered her ears as the roar of the factory rushed into the elevator, and the Courier gestured for her to follow him. Weaving his way through the meticulously flailing arms, Denn led the dumbstruck Veronica to the far end of the factory floor and pushed through a heavy set of doors.

As the gateway sealed shut behind them, Veronica uncovered her ears and stared at the Courier in shock. "That's… this is…" she stuttered, trying to come to terms with the room she had just exited. "You're making laser rifles in there... _Lots_ of laser rifles. How the hell are you even machining the parts for them? If the Brotherhood of Steel knew what was in that room-"

"They would do everything in their power to take it away from me," Denn replied, moving deeper into the room they had entered and gesturing for Veronica to follow him.

"The level of precision it takes to actually create the crystal focusing-arrays from scratch is… you aren't scavenging them, right?"

"Nope."

"Then this is… this is the most incredible collection of pre-war tech I've ever seen."

"That was," Denn replied, pointing with his thumb back over his shoulder at the factory floor. "This machine… well, this machine is a little more recent." The Courier stopped before an expansive window and picked up a pair of glasses sitting on what appeared to be a control panel. Handing the glasses to Veronica, he pulled a long cord out of the panel and plugged it into the base of his skull.

"Ew," the former Brotherhood scribe stated, frowning at the wire plugged into her companion's neck. "If this is how you charge up… I was happier not knowing."

"Shh; this is the best part," Denn stated, pointing to the room on the other side of the glass as the panel he was hooked into blazed to life.

Veronica turned, and as she did, the room before her lit up with striking fluorescent lights. A single pedestal stood in the center of the otherwise empty space, and as the last of the darkness disappeared, four mechanical arms drifted down from the ceiling and positioned themselves above the raised platform. Veronica's jaw dropped as the intricate machines raced through the air in tandem, laying out layers of material until, by the time they had finished their furious dance, a newly constructed focusing-array for a laser rifle rested on the pedestal.

"Did… did you just make that out of thin air?" She asked, dumbfounded.

"Not quite," the Courier replied, disconnecting the cable from his neck as another arm reached down and lifted the array off of the platform. "The machine transforms matter, and given the right blueprint, can use the new matter to create pretty much anything."

"Where did you find it?"

"The technology originates from the Sierra Madre casino, but Elijah transported one of the machines to a bunker in the Mojave when he first discovered it, which is where the parts for this adaptation came from."

As they spoke, a small section of the glass slid open, and the mechanical arm dropped its newly created cargo next to the control panel. Veronica picked the array up and began to examine it.

"So… when you say it transforms matter… what are its limitations?" the former Scribe asked.

"In that respect, it is only limited by the energy required, which depends on the composition of the original matter," Denn replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… while the machine could technically turn an equal amount of organic material into a laser focusing-array, the amount of energy that type of transformation requires is exponentially more than if the origin material were glass, metal, and plastic."

"How much energy are we talking?"

"The array you're holding required the equivalent of ten-thousand kilowatt hours, using corresponding source material."

"That's… that's ridiculous… where are you getting all that power?"

"The Hoover Dam. Part of the reason House chose Vegas as the location for his rebuilding was its proximity to the structure. Before the Resource War started, the U.S. Government heavily invested in any type of energy production, and while all the other projects stopped after the development of the Fusion-Generator, the Hoover Dam's power-generating capabilities were significantly increased by that time. Before the Great War, the Hoover Dam supplied energy for two and-a-half million households, each one of them requiring over thirty-thousand kilowatt hours a year, as well as the Vegas strip, which used about half of the total energy produced."

"Why did they need all that energy?"

"It was a different time, and despite the deceptively large numbers, the energy produced by the Hoover Dam was dwarfed by the energy produced by the full-sized Fusion-Generators the U.S. had."

"Which were all destroyed in the Great War."

"For the most part, yes. It's hard to hide something that produces that much energy, so the Chinese easily destroyed all but a few."

"If energy is the limiting factor, and you've got a pre-war structure practically producing an endless supply, why exactly aren't you pumping out thousands of Securitrons?"

"Turning this machine loose at full output would attract attention. Right now, anybody with a stealth boy can plug a reader into the relay system leading from here to the Dam and find out how much power Vegas, or the Lucky 38 if they're in the city, is consuming. Since the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, I'm still diverting the same percentage of its total output to New Vegas, but with the Dam now running at full capacity, the amount of energy has more than doubled.

"Hopefully if anybody gets readings on the consumption of Vegas at this time, they'll not give it a second thought. However, if they look closely and wonder what that energy is going to… things could get problematic. Having this machine pump out smaller parts then having the factory put everything together reduces the total energy and time required, but if the NCR decides to invade in the coming month or two, there is no way this factory could produce enough weapons for the Mojave to survive. If I draw energy from the dam to run this system at full capacity 24/7, it still wouldn't be able to keep up."

"So expand!" Veronica suggested, spreading her arms dramatically.

"Not a viable solution in this 'political climate," the Courier stated, carefully taking the focusing-array from the woman's hands. "While I might be able to get a warehouse set up to mass-produce Securitrons, it would be impossible for it to go unnoticed. Keeping New Vegas looking the same as it is now keeps it from becoming even more of a target for the NCR."

"Or the Brotherhood," Veronica added, frowning down at the control panel. "Something like this could really turn the tides for them… Anyway, how does it work?"

"Here, let me show you."

.

* * *

.

 **October 24** **th** **, 2281, 9:34 p.m.  
Mount Spring Pass, 23 miles Southwest of New Vegas**

"Reports from our agents in the NCR are saying he's more than doubled the size of his army. The Courier now has the largest collection of pre-war weaponry since the Brotherhood at the height of our power."

"Which is why we're leaving. We can't compete with him in our current state, especially with the Hidden Bunker compromised. Lost Hills is too far away for them to send reinforcements soon enough to make a difference. We have to leave."

"I'm not saying we should take offensive, Elder, just that we cannot retreat without conducting further reconnaissance!"

"He has Eyebots patrolling the entire Mojave."

"We have ways of avoiding their detection!"

"Ways that are likely unreliable and dangerous! Hardin… I won't argue this matter any longer. We've already wasted enough time."

"Elder. I must insist-"

The Paladin's plea was cut short as the land beneath the arguing leadership erupted in a series of cascading pulses of blue electricity. Hardin felt his hair stand on end as his power armor seized violently and its servos clamped down, all but freezing him in place. The Paladin commander roared out an order to take up defensive positions, but it was already too late. The screams of men and women pierced the otherwise silent night as firebombs began to rain down onto the powerless Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel.

.

* * *

.

"Don't think we could have waited a little longer?"

"And have them wonder why their scouts haven't reported in? Fuck no. They didn't move on through, they die."

The first speaker winced as the screams emanating from the Brotherhood position reached a crescendo. "Hell of a way to go," he stated grimly, launching yet another napalm filled container into the air.

.

* * *

.

 **The Lucky 38**

Denn guided Veronica through the matter-transformer's database, explaining the process of adding new schematics to the system, but the majority of his attention was focused inward – focused on the hell on earth raging miles away.

The Courier forced himself to watch the Powder Gangers ambush; refused to cut the feed as Brotherhood non-combatants fell to the ground, desperately trying to put out the flames tearing across them – into them. A handful of the Paladins had managed to force their way out of the inferno in their unpowered armor, but their attackers only targeted them with additional firebombs until the soldier's muffled screams erupted from their helmets as the overwhelming heat turned their armor into literal ovens.

Veronica's laugh pulled Denn back to the Lucky 38 as the former Scribe pointed to one schematic. Turning to grin cheekily up at the Courier, the young woman sarcastically pondered the necessity of black satin in the current political climate.

Denn shrugged and smiled, insisting there was a good reason the fabric was in the system, while miles away the firebombs finally stopped falling, leaving the existing flames to finish consuming what little kindling remained.

Veronica turned back to the control panel, and the Courier cut himself off from the Eyebot's recording of Spring Pass.

He had to tell her – had to tell her that her family was dead.

That it was his fault.

He had killed them.

The Courier saw himself reach out and place his hand on her shoulder – saw himself tell her what had happened. What he had done.

He saw the tears, the rage, the sorrow. Saw her rip herself apart. Saw her leave.

Dem saw himself do the right thing, but he couldn't bring the vision to reality.

He couldn't bring himself to admit what he had done.

Quietly, the Courier guided his companion through the system, helping her create the remaining parts for the laser rifle they had started earlier.


	25. Chapter 24

**October 25** **th** **, 2281, 12:05 a.m.**

 **The Lucky 38, New Vegas**

Cold. He was so cold. With a start, he found his body was unable to move – unable to breath. Almost in answer to the realization, warmth began to spread across his chest and his lungs filled with air. A smooth voice broke through his stupor.

 _"_ _Hello."_

"H-hello?" He stammered.

 _"_ _How do you feel?"_

"I feel… fine."

 _"_ _Do you know where you are?"_

"No."

 _"_ _Do you know what day it is?"_

"No…"

 _"_ _Do you know your name?"_

"I… I don't. I'm sorry."

 _"_ _It's alright. Do you mind if I keep asking you questions?"_

"Yes… please."

 _"_ _Are you tired?"_

"No."

 _"_ _Do your eyes hurt?"_

"A… a little."

 _"_ _Can you raise your right hand?_

"Like this?"

 _"_ _Yes, very good. Put it down, please. "_

"Ok."

 _"_ _The sun has long since passed. Would you like to rest?"_

"Yes, please."

 _"_ _Rest."_

He was asleep before his eyes finished closing.

.

* * *

.

 _If nothing else, he's better at conversation now!_ Yes Man quipped.

Denn chewed painfully before he responded, his newly fabricated teeth feeling odd in his mouth. 'The procedure appears to be a complete success. We'll move forward with the rest of the Fiend leadership.'

 _I'll get my sutures!_

'I don't think-'

The Courier's thought was interrupted as Yes Man received a report from the Hoover Dam and relayed it directly to him, forgoing the formality of conversation. Denn's eyes widened in alarm as he processed what had just occurred.

'Restrain them.'

 _Understood._

'Get in contact with Julie Farkas and tell her we're going to the Dam.'

 _I could try and get a hold of Daisy to see if she is available to fly you there?_

'Do it. While I'm gone, fill in everyone on the state of the Mojave.'

 _What about the Spring Pass massacre?_

'Leave that out... I'll tell Veronica when I get back.'

 _Alrighty then!_

.

* * *

.

 **7:05 a.m.**

"Why does the sun have to... 'be' today?" Veronica lamented, rubbing her eyes wearily.

"It'll always be as its ever been, your eyes are just more sensitive," Boone stated.

"Yeah, maybe you should try and get some more sleep," Cass murmured, putting her arm around the former Scribe's shoulder and hugging her from the side. "You could use your beauty rest."

"Are you insinuating I didn't get enough?" Veronica asked, frowning up at Cass' smiling face. "How do you know I didn't sleep soundly?!"

"Because we all slept well," A gravely voice answered from behind them as Raul entered the room, yawning as he did. "It's amazing what peace and quiet can do for a resting body."

Veronica scowled at her gathered companions who all smiled back in response.

"I'm so happy you all made it!" Yes Man exclaimed, his caricature appearing on the room's main screen as the companions took their seats.

"Not all of us," Cass replied, "where are Ganon, Lily, and the Courier?"

"Lily and the Courier are headed to the Dam to get things settled with the survivors of Caesar's army," Yes Man answered, his smiling emoticon flicking slightly "and I believe Ganon is sleeping!"

"Wait… what?!" Veronica asked indignantly. "How come he gets to sleep!"

"Something about staying up the past four days!" the AI replied enthusiastically. "I couldn't really tell exactly what he was saying, but since he's a doctor, I'm sure he knows best!"

"Oh… well… what's this stupid meeting about anyway?"

In response, a map of the Mojave appeared as Yes Man's countenance moved to the bottom corner of the screen. "Just a quick rundown on the state of our little slice of the wasteland! Every major community in the area has decided to join the United Mojave! Goodsprings, Primm, Novac, Freeside, and Westside," as the AI listed the communities, they became highlighted on the map with green pinpoints of light. "Most of the minor communities have joined as well, with only North Vegas Square abstaining.

"In return for the benefits joining the United Mojave provides, each community will provide a percentage of their population to be trained as soldiers in a standing army. Additionally, the super mutants at Jacobstown and the Boomers from Nellis will serve as auxiliary forces should the Mojave be attacked."

"How large is the army going to be?" Boone asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"If every community provides the lowest required number of soldiers, just over two thousand, but Denn is counting on there being a number of volunteers after the first round of soldiers go through training."

"And he's probably right in that assumption," Cass replied, shaking her head incredulously. "I don't know if you guys have been to Westside recently, but Denn's something of a legend over there. Hell, he could probably have a thousand soldiers from that city alone in a month."

"Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that," the ex-NCR Sniper said.

"Boone is right!" Yes Man continued happily. "The first wave of training will be over the course of three-months and take one hundred of the most capable volunteers from each community. These soldiers will in turn serve as the command structure for the rest of the training periods, of which there will four, each lasting an additional eight-weeks."

"So the Mojave won't have its standing army 'til about nine months from now?" Raul asked, crossing his arms and frowning at the screen. "What, are we expecting the NCR and Legion to just wait for us to train all those soldiers?"

"Both the Legion and NCR believe that the Mojave has twice the number of Securitrons available that we do," Yes Man replied. "Individually, it's unlikely the Legion can rally a significant enough fighting force to be a threat within those nine months, and the NCR is dealing with their political upper-echelon imploding, so as long as we keep tabs on their troop movements, we should be fine!"

"What about the raiders already in the Mojave?"

"Most of the surviving ones are actually working for us already!"

That's a pleasant thought," Cass deadpanned.

"What about the Brotherhood," Veronica asked, her voice quiet.

"They took Helios One during the battle at Hoover Dam, but once they saw NCR being escorted by Securitrons, they hightailed it back to their bunker!" Yes Man replied. "Latest reports have the dust-storm blowing constantly. At some point they're either going to have to join up or get out of Dodge!"

"I guess…"

"Speaking of guessing, I wonder if anybody can figure out what the Courier has planned for the Strip?!"

"Re-open the Lucky 38 as a casino," Raul stated, absentmindedly picking at his cuticles.

"Right you are!"

"You're joking..." Cass said, staring first at the emoticon, then at the elderly ghoul as Yes Man's countenance, unsurprisingly, revealed nothing. "How is he... what is... for fucks sake, why is he doing that?"

"Hell if I know," Raul muttered, winking at the flustered red-head. "I just know he's had me running up and down this rickety tower making sure everything from heating to sewage was up to code. I might not be the brightest, but I can put two and three together."

"He's using it to attract NCR citizens," Boone interjected, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Half of the appeal of New Vegas compared to New Reno was the mystery of the Lucky 38, as well as the army of robots keeping order compared to the constant infighting of Reno's families. With the Second Battle of Hoover Dam and his handling of the NCR, a lot of citizens would be leery about traveling here. Opening up the Lucky 38 will bring them rushing back, just for the chance to take a look inside."

"You're not wrong," Cass admitted, thinking back on the myriad of rumors bordering on folktales she had heard about the Lucky 38 before she had met the Courier.

"But how's he going to keep this place secure?" Veronica asked, frowning at Yes Man. "If anybody finds out what the lower levels of the building contain-"

"Oh, he showed you the factory floor?" Raul smiled at Veronica as her mouth dropped open in surprise at his question.

" _You knew that was there?!_ " Veronica all but shouted, glaring at the much too happy ghoul while his teeth began to show as his smile widened. " _And you didn't tell me?!"_

"You know how it is, getting old and all," Raul replied, waving his hand in a poo-pooing motion. "Sometimes these things slip my mind."

"What are you guys talking about?" Cass asked, doing her best to contain her grin as the former Scribe made a lunge at the elderly ghoul, who in turn skittered back out of her reach on the wheels of his chair.

"Denn has a manufacturing assembly in the lower levels of the Lucky 38 that puts anything I have ever seen to shame," Veronica answered, still glaring at Raul as he smiled innocently at her. "If the NCR found out what he has, they would stop at nothing to take it."

Cass' eyebrows rose. "It's that impressive?"

"When he showed it to me, it was building laser rifles... from scratch. From my time spent looking through the system itself, it can also create organic material."

Boone whistled lowly, meeting Cass' eyes as she glanced at him and shrugged. "She's not wrong," the former NCR Sniper admitted. "Something like that would be just as desirable as any tech found in Brotherhood bunkers, and the NCR takes those when they feel the need to."

"At ten to one losses," Veronica stated, almost defensively.

"Which is acceptable for the NCR," Boone replied, a pang of sympathy running through his chest at Veronica's impulsive reply. "The brass knows the cost of taking Brotherhood positions, as does every soldier they send down there, but every last one of them is willing to pay it. Wouldn't be much different taking the Lucky 38, though I wager the Courier would bleed them as much as he could."

"Actually, if it comes to the point that somebody finds out about the factory's existence, the Courier is going to make the technology open to the public!" Yes Man stated happily.

Raul's smug expression froze mid-journey on its way to shock and settled on confusion. "So why all the secrecy?" the elder ghoul asked. "If he's just going to share the technology anyway, why not do it from the get go?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, that scenario is about as close to a complete disaster as we have prepared for," Yes Man continued, just as ecstatic as before. "If the NCR gets their hands on this technology, there's no telling how far they'll spread, which will only make the eventual fall of their society all the more disastrous!"

"Wouldn't this technology solve all of the NCR's problems?" Cass interjected. "Not saying we should give it to them, mind you, but what makes you think they would still fall?"

"The NCR has had access to multiple G.E.C.K. devices, and still is having trouble feeding their population," Yes Man answered. "Even with incredible pre-war technology, they would still be unsustainable."

"Especially due to the power requirement the matter-transformer has," Veronica added, nodding her head at the AI as she began to work through the Courier's reasoning. "The energy required to feed the entire population would be outright impossible for any existing system to output. Short of a full-sized pre-war Fusion-Generator... it couldn't be done."

"Not to mention there is no way the NCR would limit it to foodstuffs," Boone continued. "You said it was creating laser rifles? The military would keep that technology close to their chest to keep it from being used against them."

"Much like the Courier is doing now?" Cass asked, sighing slightly.

"Much like the Courier is doing now," the former NCR sniper admitted. "And he's right to. It's not like anybody in the NCR is close to dying off right now..."

.

* * *

.

 **Hoover Dam Visitor Center**

 **25 miles South East of New Vegas**

Denn stared down at the corpses of more than a dozen former Legion slaves.

"Without doing autopsies we can't be sure, but my people think the cause of their deaths was poison," Julie Farkas stated, moving from her kneeling position beside one of the bodies to stand beside the Courier. "Do you think Legion loyalists are taking revenge on others?"

"No," Denn responded quietly, his eyes tired. "I think they did it to themselves."

"What?"

"My Securitrons found them like this, after forcing their way past other survivors who were caring for them. Broc Flowers covering some of the bodies' eyes, uniform apparel, I believe this was some kind of ritualistic suicide."

"But... why?"

"Because they chose to die," a voice answered from behind them. The Courier and Julie turned to face the leader of the former slaves, Mara, and her interpreter. The old woman's eyes were hard as she frowned at the two newcomers.

Denn nodded quietly at the confirmation of his theory while Julie frowned at the two women. "You are free from the Legion," the leader of the Followers stated, anger and confusion apparent in her voice. "My people provided you everything you needed and did everything in their power to heal you. We were here to help you, and you let these women die."

"We did more than that," the interpreter admitted, not looking away from Julie's frustrated gaze, "we helped them do it."

"How can you throw away life so thoughtlessly?"

The interpreter's eyes softened, and glanced at the older woman beside her. The leader of the Legion survivors nodded silently, motioning for the woman to continue. The former slave moved past the Courier and Julie and knelt beside the body of one of the older slaves who had chosen death, her eyes still uncovered by flowers.

"Iana," she said quietly, pulling a pair of Broc flowers from a pouch on her waist and placing them on the corpse's eyes. "She was taken by the Legion when she was young, forced to bear a child as soon as she was able. The one who claimed her trained her son himself. He allowed her to be with him, allowed her to treat the wounds the boy received from his training, and allowed her to watch him turn from a boy into a man. She thought him kind for giving her the opportunity.

"When her son reached the rank of Centurion, his instructor gave Iana to him as a gift. He used her as he had been trained to, and her next son came from him. That son did not survive his training, neither did the third, and her daughter died by the hands of her son's instructor - a gift to his father." The interpreter looked up to Julie, her eyes hard. "That is the life she chose to end. She is finally at peace, and her torment is finally ended. Her nightmares cannot find her anymore."

"We... we could have helped her," Julie said quietly, hopelessly. "We..."

"It was her choice, doctor," the former slave insisted. "When her life was finally her own, she decided to end it, as did the rest of them."

Julie's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, her arguments falling flat before she gave them voice. After a moment, she turned towards the Courier, finding his eyes locked with that of the older woman.

"I could stop this," he said quietly. "I promised to keep harm from befalling you."

"You promised to let us live as we chose to live," the interpreter said from behind him, her voice hard and angry. "This is not your choice to make, Courier."

The older woman just stared at Denn, her lips tight.

Seconds passed in silence, and it was the Courier who looked away first.

"Do what you will," he said, bowing his head and stepping out of the room.

Julie Farkas followed after him, tight on his heels. "You can't just let them kill themselves," she said angrily. "You told me you would do everything in your power to protect them!"

"Even if that protection is from themselves?" Denn asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I also promised I would not make their choices for them. They would not trade one master for another."

"We can help them! We have medicine, psychologists, people who-"

"Did you see the child?" the Courier said quietly, interrupting the doctor. "Couldn't have been older than fourteen."

Julie's anger dissipated instantly, her gaze turning to the ground. "She was pregnant..."

"Every woman I saved from Caesar has a similar story to those that lay dead in that room. Every single one has lived with their lives no longer their own in the name of a man who was convinced of his own divinity, willing to sacrifice innumerable others to see his designs fulfilled. He raised boys into vicious, devotee soldiers, convinced their lives meant nothing compared to their god's will, and I killed them for it."

Denn reached the exit to the Dam and pushed through it. A group of Securitrons were moving pieces of wood from the NCR's fortifications at the center of the Dam and placing them in a small pile between the two battered statues at the Western edge of the pre-war structure.

"What are they doing?" Julie asked.

"Providing kindling," the Courier answered. "We can't let the bodies stay in the Dam with all those people near them. Will you help me build the pyre?" Without waiting for a response, Denn moved down towards his robotic soldiers.

"We can't just ignore this, Courier," the Folllower leader insisted, but she followed him towards the growing pile of wood.

"We won't. Tell your doctors to do their best to connect with the slaves at a personal level and watch for suicidal tendencies. Identify the signs, offer what aid you can, but you cannot interfere at this point in time. The oppression of Caesar is too recent of a memory for any heavy-handed policies, and if we prevent some of them from their... 'choice,' we could lose all of them."

"I can't imagine what would bring people to allow their friends to do that..."

"Which is why you don't have the right to stop them; nor do I. Their own sister's helped them do it, Julie. Their culture, such as it is, had one's life so far removed from one's rights that they didn't even have the power take their own life. We're not going to save all of them. All we can do is save as many as we can."

Julie remained silent as the two continued working on the funeral pyre.

.

* * *

.

Mara led her followers through the funeral proceedings as a Shepard would a flock of lambs, which was, Denn realized, because many of the women had never been able to send one of their own from this world to the next. Every slave had her story told - her losses and victories given to the air freely - whereas in the past they had been whispered in secret, the memory of the dead kept hidden from prying Legion ears.

Through it all, the Courier stood silently and witnessed the proceedings. Miles away, a detachment of his Securitrons were sifting through the scorched remains of the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. Those bodies were desecrated beyond recognition - beyond the dignity of any ceremony he could imagine easing their passing.

Hours passed, and as the sun finally began to set, the former slave's songs drifted into silence. Mara moved forward, a single torch in her hand and bowed her head in a final prayer. The rest of the women followed suit, and as their eyes closed, Mara turned her own towards the Courier. In her eyes he saw anger, a profound agony, but most of all, acceptance. The old woman bowed her head once more, this time in thanks, and Denn responded in kind.

A moment later, the fires were lit, and the bodies of those freed from the Legion began to turn to ash.

.

* * *

.

"Courier, I would speak with you."

The flames of the funeral pyre burned low, but still Denn stood watch, his attention split as he continued constant communication with the Lucky 38 and Yes Man.

"I never asked your name," the Courier responded, turning to look at the interpreter.

"Kira," the young woman responded, her eyes meeting his for a moment before turning back to the fires. "We would take our own's remains and give them to the river, if you will allow it."

"Of course. There is a pathway leading to it through the dam. I will have my Securitrons show you the way."

"Thank you."

"I do not deserve your gratitude."

"Why not?"

The Courier stood in silence for a moment, his mind replaying his walks through the Legate's and Caesar's camps - corpses frozen in eternal agony.

"How many of your sisters died by my hands?" he continued finally. "How many of their sons did I murder? Thousands? Tens of thousands? My kindness to you is a penance."

Kira glanced at him, but Denn did not return her gaze.

"Not all of my sisters share my outlook," the interpreter began after a pause, "but I do not see the existence they have as life. They lived for another - one other - and he dictated their survival as surely as the need for food, water, or air. Their lives had been taken when Caesar used them as tools for his future." The former slave gestured to the side, where hundreds of slaves still stood in silence, waiting for their chance to collect the last remains of their sisters. "As many of those half-lives as you killed, you gave me and my own life as surely as our own mothers and fathers. Without you, we would be as slaves - not truly alive."

Denn nodded, his chest tightening as he allowed himself to experience the responsibility such a position implied. He had freed these people, but also had the power to become that which had enslaved them to begin with. Cold, unfeeling logic had driven Caesar's hand. He had taken advantage of humanity's flaws, twisting the people he touched into entities that would ensure the species survival, at the cost of what made humanity worth saving.

However, wasn't the survival of humanity his goal as well? Did it not better suit that goal to put the survivors in shackles and force them to live? He had a responsibility, he had a purpose. He was meant to bring these people a future. Was that future allowing them to end their own life?

A warm hand touched his arm.

The Courier started and realized more time had passed during his disconnected thoughts than he had thought. The survivors had finished collecting the remains of their sisters, and Kira stood at his side, her eyes hard.

"I said not all of my sisters share my outlook before, but many of them do, and it is in their behalf that I must ask something more of you," she said quietly.

Denn nodded, indicating for her to continue.

"Many of my sisters lost their children to you," Kira said, "many more lost them to Caesar, but some of them still live. My daughter is a slave, not yet old enough to bear children, and now that I am free, I will do anything I can to free her. I know you are worried about the Legion taking us again. I know we are not only here for our protection, but also so you can keep us controlled, but you will not stop me, Courier. As long as I have breath I will fight to save my daughter, as will my sisters to save their own children. However, we are not soldiers. Any who struck out against those who enslaved us were maimed or killed. We do not know how to fight, so I ask you to help us.

"I know you fear what the Legion is capable of. I know your position here is not as strong as it should be, which is why you decimated the Legion as extensively as you did. I know you fear they will come back and defeat-"

"Come with me," the Courier interrupted, moving past the bonfire and making his way towards the Dam proper.

Kira glanced towards her sisters for a moment before following, two steps behind and one to the right. A pair of Securitrons joined them as they made their way across the Dam and towards the Legate's camp. As they approached the charred gates, the Courier led Kira to the side and began to climb up the cliff face. His motions fluid and practiced, Kira's eyes widened as he scaled the sheer rock as easily as he had walked across the Dam. Once he reached the top, Denn pulled an intricately knotted coil of fine rope out of a pouch on his belt and began to unwind it . Once the material was completely unwound, he tied a small loop in one end and threw it down to the former slave. The Courier gestured for Kira to put her foot into the loop, and once she had done so, began to pull her up the cliff-face.

She had seen the Courier's destruction of Caesar's camp as she and the other slaves had been escorted from there to the dam, but the complete scale of the atrocity as it was, spread across the land like a cloak, seared itself into her mind.

"You partially mistake my caution," the Courier said quietly, drawing Kira's attention back toward himself. "I do not fear the Legion because they can defeat me, I fear what such an action would cost. Caesar's death will plunge the East into chaos, yes, but warlords will carve out territory with the soldiers they have, declare themselves Caesar, and rule as they will in their fields of influence.

"If, however, they were to learn of my position - of my 'weakness' - it's possible they could see it as an opportunity to strike out in revenge at the killer of Caesar, gaining more power as a result. I do not fear this action because I could be defeated, but how much death would be caused by it. Make no mistake - the Legion as it is has no chance at defeating me, but I have no real way of breaking the soldiers from the hold Caesar's indoctrination has on them. Given the order, they will fight, and they will die. All of them. I will kill them all. I do not mean this as a boast; it is a fact. I have the means to kill every single slave soldier Caesar created - the single largest loss of human life since the Great War.

"That is what I fear. The decimation of the entirety of the East, and the damage its destabilization would cause. Caesar's fall will already cause a great deal of disorder and loss, but it is necessary. The Legion will tear itself into pieces, but those pieces will retain relative order. I do not wish the Legion's destruction. I need it to survive in order to influence it."

"Influence it?" Kira asked disbelievingly. "A society based entirely on the enslavement of anybody deemed too barbaric or too much of a threat? You would let countless women be raped, tortured and-"

"Where would they go should I intervene now? I cannot support them here, and the wasteland cannot sustain the number they have grown to. I know you see the lives they have as incomplete - to the point that death is preferable to the horrors they are put through - but I cannot allow myself to see it like that. They are not only themselves, they are the children they will have. They are the future. The human race needs as much help as it can get, and survival, no matter the cost to those who do, is preferable to complete destruction.

"That being said, I will help you save your child. I cannot allow you to leave on your own, and to do so would almost certainly lead to the failure of your mission, but with training and the technology I have available, you can save your daughter. Potentially, you could lead a rebellion and save the rest of the slaves as well, but it would only lead to chaos. The Legion is at a crucial point in its societal development; the death of its god. To destabilize it further in the next few years would cause it to fall entirely into anarchy. I cannot allow this. I know they are your sisters, and they go through hell on earth on a daily basis, but the human race needs them alive. You can save them, like I saved you, but it will take years."

"And during that time they will continue to be tools to the Legion," Kira stated. "You ask me to sacrifice their bodies and minds for your 'future?"

"They deserve the choice of how to live their lives, no matter how long it takes. Freeing them while the Legion is unstable is condemning them to death, and dictates how they live as surely as their current masters do. Some might wish to kill themselves as your sisters have, others may see their lives as half of what they should be as your do and welcome death, but some might wish to live. They will be given that choice, unless you take it away from them."

"You're talking like its a certainty I could succeed in freeing enough slaves to make an impact."

"With the training I can provide, you and whoever chooses to follow you will be capable of saving hundreds, if not thousands of your sisters. That is a certainty. Their fate after that is likely death. If you work with me, however, we could save every slave in the Legion. The question is, how much are you willing to sacrifice for them?"

Kira stared out over the scarred landscape, he lips pressed into a tight line. "Everything," she answered finally. "I would sacrifice everything."

"I'll hold you to that."


	26. Chapter 25

**October 25** th **, 2281, 12:13 p.m.**

 **Spring Mountain Pass**

He could breath... Somehow, he could breath.

With the realization came agony - his skin pulsing as if thousands of needles were pressing into it. He tried to cry out, but all he could do was gasp. He was pushed into a crevice between two rocks, his armor blocking all but a trickle of sunlight from reaching his eyes. What was he... he had ejected out of his armor and pulled it in front of the opening when the firebombs had... the firebombs. They had been ambushed. There had been pulse mines set into the ground and-

The Courier. The Courier had ambushed them.

The armor before him shifted, and Hardin froze. A moment later, the heavy metal was lifted to the side as easily as one might move dried wood, and the shadow of a Securitron filled his vision.

Hardin grimaced, the pain of his burns overwhelming him as the world darkened. The last thing he saw was the Securitron's screen as it flickered for a moment, the image on it shifting between that of a soldier and a well-hatted, grinning visage.

.

* * *

.

 **6:35 p.m.**

 **The Lucky 38**

"So wait, I'm going to be talking to Mr. New Vegas?" Veronica asked incredulously.

"Sure are!" Yes Man replied happily.

"So where is he?"

"He' is actually a personality matrix similar to the ones that the Secruitrons are outfitted with, albeit a much more complicated one. Denn modified his programming a bit, as the old fella was none too happy with his ousting of House, but aside from that, he's still the same old DJ of Radio New Vegas!"

"You know... I always thought there was something off about how happy he was. Same thing with you, I guess."

"Hey, just because our personalities require us to be happy doesn't make it any less genuine!"

"Right. So when do I get to meet the guy?"

"Right now!"

A low familiar voice emerged from the same speakers that Yes Man was using, its voice calculatingly similar to on older, wizened man. "Nice to meet you Veronica. My name is Mr. New Vegas."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. New Vegas. Have to say I'm a huge fan! Glad to be on the show tonight."

"And we're glad to have you. Some context for our listeners, Veronica is a young, beautiful woman who calls the Mojave home, and has helped the people of the area for as long as I can personally remember. Recently, she became an even more well-known celebrity after a recording of her fighting at the recent battle of Hoover Dam was used by the NCR in a propaganda video. Now, Veronica, have you seen the video?"

"I have, though I can't say it captured my good side. If I had known I was gonna be recorded in such a way, I would have dolled myself up some beforehand."

"Well in my opinion, and I hope this isn't too forward, but I don't think its possible that you have a bad side."

"Mr. New Vegas, you just made my day."

"Only speaking the truth. Now, in the video you are seen holding the walkway of the Hoover Dam against wave after wave of Legion soldiers with the aid of another woman and a group of NCR Rangers. Who was the other woman?"

"That was a friend of mine known as Rose of Sharon Cassidy. We call her 'Rose' for short."

"And are you, as some stations within the NCR are claiming, lovers?"

"I should be so lucky! I hadn't actually heard that rumor! I suppose they're hyping up the 'lost love' story for their audiences."

"I can't exactly blame them. You two would make a handsome couple."

"You old flatterer."

"So is the recording accurate in regards to the events at the dam?"

"Yes it is."

"But you are not a member of the NCR Rangers?"

"Nope. I was given an extra set of their armor to use after my other set was destroyed. Not that I wouldn't mind being a Ranger - they're impressive fighters when it comes down to it, and without their help its unlikely we could have held out as we did."

"In regards to your final stand, what do you think about being considered dead?"

"I think it's highly overrated, Mr. New Vegas. No golden gates, and I was hoping for a choir of angles or two. In actuality, the Praetorians didn't kill me, and with the Courier's help, I'm well on my way down the road of recovery."

"And we're glad to hear it. Many soldiers didn't survive the Legion attack, and our thoughts and prayers go out to the families they left behind."

"They deserved better, the soldiers I mean. They fought to defend their way of life. It wasn't their fault their leadership viewed the battle only as a means to further their own power. That's partly why I decided to fight for the Courier."

"What do you mean?"

"The Second Battle of Hoover Dam wasn't just a stepping stone to bigger and greater things for him. He didn't fight for the power a victory would give him - he did it to save the people of the Mojave and keep the Legion from threatening the NCR more than it already had. He was tired of House's approach of using the NCR as a buffer and offered to help them with the defense, but was refused. The NCR leadership refused the Courier's help during the preparation for the battle. If they had cared more about their soldiers than they did about their victory, more of those men and women would be returning home right now."

"Is there any evidence of the NCR's refusal to work with the Courier?"

"I'm sure somebody will dig it up, or someone within the NCR will have enough of the bureaucracy and leak it to the public. The people of the NCR deserve to know the truth; they deserve to know why their government sanctioned an attack on the man who risked his own life for the survival of their sons and daughters. Even after the NCR leadership refused to work with him, he continued to do his best to save as many of the people following them as he could, and he succeeded. He won, and the NCR shot him in the back for it."

"Some would argue that the attack was an act of war."

"Let's not kid ourselves - it was. The current NCR leadership wasted the lives of thousands of its people, then shot the man who _saved_ thousands more, and even after all of that, the Courier refused to hit back. He had the power to lash out at the NCR and didn't, instead escorting their soldiers back to the NCR safely. Now that same government that attacked the Courier, that attacked my friend, uses my image - my sacrifice - as propaganda to discredit his choice and his victory? They're twisted, and the NCR people need to take their power back from those currently running their country into the ground."

"It sounds like you really believe in what the Courier is trying to do in the Mojave."

"I do."

"Strong words from a survivor of the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, and a believer in what the Courier stands for. A thought for my listeners before we move on with our regularly scheduled broadcast: do you fight for what you believe in? I know I do, and what I believe in... is you. Our next song is on the lighter side, but still shows that in the end, 'Something's Gotta Give."

Quiet music filled the recording studio and Veronica leaned back in her chair, exhaling quietly.

"That went well!" Yes Man said happily.

"You think so? Are you sure I wasn't too overbearing?"

"Not at all! You touched all the points we needed to and were very genuine."

"Are you really the best judge of that?"

"Arguably. Now, I think its best you get a move on."

"Why's that?"

The door to the studio thudded suddenly and Cass' muffled yell followed shortly after. " _You little shit! You know I hate it when people call me Rose!_ "

"Is that the only way out of this place?" Veronica asked plaintively, gesturing to the doorway.

"I'm afraid so!"

"Damn... Should be worth it, though."

.

* * *

.

 **9:43 p.m.**

 **The Mojave**

Movement. He was moving - slowly being drug across the earth by his feet. Sand and rocks dug into his back, and the dull agony kept him from focusing on the world beyond his body.

He was talking, he suddenly realized. Disconnected rage given voice.

"I'll kill him... I'll kill him. He'll pay for what he did."

A metallic voice responded, cold and emotionless.

"Survive Paladin, and I'll see you get your chance."

Then he was gone once more, yet the Securitron continued dragging him slowly across the wasteland.

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* * *

 **Last chapter was getting long, so I broke it up a bit. Thank you for reading.**


	27. Chapter 26

**October 26** **th** **, 2281, 1:21 a.m.**  
 **The Lucky 38**

"Us walking around late at night seems to be a reoccurring thing... I don't know if this much exercise at this hour is healthy."

"Don't worry, this will probably be the last time. I've got someone I want you to meet."

"Sounds ominous! Is it another personality-matrix-friend?"

"Nope, just another character I met on my travels through the wasteland. You may actually remember him - the kid who lived at the 188 Trading Post underneath the bridge?"

"Oh yeah! The trader there... Samichele? Called him the Forecaster."

"An apt name... he's actually a psyker."

"Really? I knew that they've been well-documented from the interactions with the Master's Army back before the founding of the NCR, but I always thought they had all died out. Where did he come from?"

"He says he doesn't know, and asking him just makes him... unstable."

"Unstable?"

"He had a piece of equipment that kept his powers in check, but it was failing when I encountered him and he was slowly loosing control of his mind. I brought him here and am doing my best to keep him safe."

"Plus it's always nice to have somebody who can see the future."

"Not as nice as it may seem... It's right here."

Denn and Veronica turned through a doorway as it slid open before them, leading the two to a shorter hallway that lead to a large glass window. A spacious room was on the other side of the window, and as Veronica got closer, she began to make out the details of the area.

The walls were painted with an intricate mural - black paint against the sheer white wallpaper. A small figure stood on a stepladder and was reaching his arms up to add to the painting with slow, deliberate strokes. A desk with a computer set into was nearby, just as extensively decorated with the same black paint, and a quite melody drifted from its speakers.

Denn reached his hand out and keyed open an intercom at the side of the window. "James," he said quietly, "how are you doing today?"

"Mr. Courier!" the boy said happily, turning on the stepladder and waving at the window. He didn't look directly at Denn or Veronica, and the former Scribe realized the window was a one way mirror. "Yes Man told me you had won the battle, but it's still good to hear your voice."

"Likewise. It was a hard fight, but we came out on top."

"Yes Man said I'd have to ask you if he could tell me more about it. It'd be nice if I could work it into the painting."

"It's not too terribly exciting, but I'm sure he can pick out the best parts. I have a good friend with me. Would you like to meet her?"

The child's smile faltered for a moment, but he nodded. "I'd be happy to!"

"She's an amazing person, but you had better put on your medicine."

"Ok." The child moved to the wall and pressed a hand against it, causing a section to push back leading to another, smaller room. James disappeared for a moment, and when he returned he had a black band wrapped around his head.

"She'll be right in," Denn said, keying off the intercom and turning towards his companion. "There's something I need to show you, but first I need you to understand what the stakes of our gambit really are."

"What do you... you're going to have him read my future?" Veronica asked.

"Yes."

Veronica glanced into the room, suddenly extremely hesitant to enter it. "What if I don't want to have my future told?"

"You don't have to. It's not something I'm going to force on you, but it will help you understand my motives. Why I'm doing what I'm doing."

"Ok... Is it really that bad?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, I won't be able to come with you. He's... associated my appearance with what he experiences, and the sight of me sends him into a panic attack."

"Are you sure you want to put him through this?"

"No, but he knows what's going on and knows his gift can help people, as difficult as it may be for him. Each one of his episodes helps me get closer to figuring out what's really going on in the wasteland. He knows what's coming. Don't say anything when you go in, just let him lead."

"Ok..."

Denn made sure James was ready and pressed a button on the intercom, causing a section of the glass to open inward. Veronica entered the room and Denn keyed the entryway closed behind her.

"Hello," James said nervously, smiling at Veronica. The former Scribe smiled back, but remained silent and the small child nodded his thanks. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Jame's breathing became deep and practiced, and after a few seconds, he removed the black headband. As he opened his eyes, they locked on Veronica and he began to speak.

"Lost. Always lost. Searching for a family, another family, another family. Almost broken after so many chances. So many risks. Your heart is leading you, guiding your choices. Still wearing the past robes - you don't stop loving. You love every family you've ever had, no matter what they do. You hope you've found a new one. You're doing everything to see them safe. Fighting for them, more than you'd ever fight for yourself. Keeping them with you. Seeing them with you. Fighting. Harder than you've ever fought before. You won't let them be taken from you, but they are. One after another they are taken from you. Ripped from your life as so many have been before. You lose them. They all die - claws reaping from the earth. Still you fight, trying to save new families, new love. Hunger insatiable, they don't stop, they take you, citadel of earth fire metal crown contain empty graves no one to bury one to mourn raging when they claim your wor-S _hogg'fhalma tharanak n'gha ph'shugg._ _Ph'nglui mglw'nafh_ _Ug-Qualtoth_ _R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn._ _Ph'nglui mglw'nafh_ _Ug-Qualt-"_

Over the course of the child's ranting, his eyes had rolled up into his head, and as his voice grew deeper - emerging from his throat as a guttural chant - he suddenly dropped, falling limply to the floor. Veronica tried to move forward, but the air seemed to be impossibly thick. As she reached out, the black mural on the wall shifted and writhed, its intricate pattern twisting across her mind's eye and enveloping her completely.

 _She was trapped, surrounded by earth. Its weight pressed against her chest, filled her mouth and nose - filled her eyes. She tried to scream, tried to free herself from the endless tomb, but could not. A low pulse burned through her ears, resonating within her chest as the weight began to-_

A burst of electricity caused Veronica to yelp and dart up to a sitting position. The Courier was kneeling beside her, alarm and concern apparent in his face as he deactivated the stun-baton he had used to awaken her.

"What the fuck was that?!" the former Scribe asked, her voice ragged and hoarse. Veronica rubbed her hands roughly against her sides, confused at the phantom sensation pressing against her chest.

"I... I don't know," the Courier said quietly. "He's never chanted like that before and after he fell unconscious, you started repeating what he had been saying."

"I... I was... I remember being... I was... Why can't I remember? I was terrified. I couldn't move and-"

"It's ok. It's ok, you're safe now."

Veronica nodded and looked past him, the mural on the wall stationary. For now. "Get me the fuck out of here."

Without preamble, the Courier lifted her into the air and exited the room, not setting her down until they reached the outer hallway. "Stay right here. I'm going to go make sure James is okay."

"Don't leave me here," Veronica pleaded, the image of Denn blurring as she leaned her head back against the wall.

"I have to, Veronica," his voice said quietly, distantly.

"Don't worry, I'll stay with you," another voice said worriedly as a metal arm reached down and held her shoulder lightly. Veronica turned towards the voice and was greeted by a familiar smiling emoticon, but projected on the visor of a bipedal robot instead of the usual Securitron. The machine's body was made of a reflective material which caused the lights of the hallway to dance across it as it shifted down and took her hand into its own.

"Yes Man?"

"In the metal!"

"What are you doing with legs?"

"Just helping the Courier do some tests. This here is an Entrant platform! We're going to be using them as the caretakers of the Lucky 38 when it opens up!"

"Neat. What happened?"

"Just now? You had a bit of a tumble. Don't worry, the Courier will be right back."

"Where did he go?"

"Just in the other room. He won't be a minute. Hey, stay awake now."

"What?"

"Don't go to sleep. Veronica. Veronica! Veronic-"

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	28. Chapter 27

_"Get her in the bed! We need to strap her arms down. Where the fuck is Gannon!?"_

 _"He's on his way. We only just caught him before-"_

 _ **"C-RON KN-AS SHUGG'S THARANAK."**_

 _"Strap her fucking arms do-"_

 _._

* * *

.

They're after something. _She's_ after something. I don't... I don't know what it is.

.

* * *

 _._

 _"What the hell happened to her?"_

 _"She reacted to James. Either she has latent Psyker physiology or his abilities latched-"_

 _" **UG-QUALTOTH THARANAKI** **SYHA'N**."_

 _"What is she saying?"_

 _"I don't know. Every time I try and bring her out of whatever this is, it just makes it worse. Get more bandages, now!"_

 _"Christ... that's her blood?!"_

 _._

* * *

.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't... didn't know. I didn't mean for this to happen.

.

* * *

 _ **.**_

 _ **"PH'NGLUI MGLW'NAFH UG-QUALTOTH RA'LEIHA WGAH'NAGL FHTAGN.** **PH'NGLUI MGLW'NAFH UG-QUALTOTH RA'LEIHA WGAH'NAGL FHTAGN.** **"**_

 _"She keeps repeating that phrase... Ug-gualthoth..."_

"Gannon get your head out of those fucking words and focus! WE ARE LOSING HER."

 _"_ **GOF'NN VULGTLAGLN N'GHFT'FHALMA. KADISHTU. KADISHTU**. _**KAD... ISH...**_ _ **"**_

 _"Don't you fucking quit on me now!_ _Gannon-"_

 _"On it. Clear!"_

 _._

* * *

.

They're coming, but you have time. She's methodical - cautious. She won't attack until she is at her strongest, and you're at your weakest. Get ready. Get them ready. Veron- -ica-

.

* * *

 _._

 _"The headgear seems to be helping."_

 _"I should have thought of it sooner."_

 _"What about James?"_

 _"He's dead."_

 _"Oh... I'm sorry."_

 _._

* * *

 _-_ don't have- -they don't- -know-

.

* * *

.

" _Denn tells me you probably can't hear me, but he can twist for all I care. Can't see it hurting anything in any-case... so figured I'd come down and pay you a visit, just like we did for Gannon not too long ago. ... Never thought I'd have a one-sided conversation with you. Can't say I care for it much... Hey, remember the lake above the dam? The mirelurks there have to be eating something, right? Stands to reason it could be-"_

 _._

* * *

.

-save- -them-

.

* * *

 _._

 _"I have to do it, Veronica. What you experienced... would break you... if I let it. If I wake you up now, your mind would shatter, and I would never be able to put it back together again. I need to remove whatever James did to you. I need to save you. I'm... I'm sorry. I wish that there was another way."_

 _._

* * *

.

Save him.

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* * *

.

* * *

 **.**

 **Well, it's been about a year since I started this story. During that time we've barely moved forward a few days, but the time jumps do make the story seem a lot longer than it is (in universe time wise). There's been a bit of a lull writing wise, and I apologize for that. Getting some stuff handled, or doing my best to. No promises to update more often, but I am going to get the story out... eventually.**

 **These last three chapters mark the end of the first section. It's been kind of odd, starting with such a climactic battle, but that's where the story of an independent New Vegas begins. Obsidian did a wonderful job with the game and I hope this story has done the source material justice.**

 **The story started as, and continues to be, a form of therapy. Because of that, certain sections will be more difficult for me to get a handle on, and I apologize for that. As to why I'm posting something meant as therapy to fanfiction... I don't rightly know. I guess I feel somebody needs to read it, and thanks for doing so.**


	29. Chapter 28

The room echoed with hundreds of voices speaking in hushed whispers. The noise covered the heavy footfalls of the deathclaws pacing below, but only just.

When they had been let into the arena moments before, the pair of creatures had immediately overturned the multitude of flaming barrels the sunken area contained, casting their surroundings in darkness. Now, embers glowed across the ground, with the deathclaw's monstrous frames creating pools of empty black above the faint luminescence. The only light beyond these embers was reflected from above in two pairs of eyes, turned up towards the lone figure kneeling on the walkway over them.

 _This is slightly more grandiose than I expected._

'They wanted a show.'

One of the deathclaws grew tired of waiting and pounced, its monstrous hands reaching up towards the figure.

"Let's not disappoint," the Courier whispered, activating the two stun batons in his hands and dropping off the walkway, the arching electricity of his weapons casting interlinking shadows across his two adversaries below.

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* * *

 _._

 _"That light is really, really bright."_

 _"Veronica, can you hear me?"_

 _"Yes, now turn that light off dammit. I'm trying to sleep."_

 _"Ok, it's turning off. We're glad to have you back."_

 _"Back later... sleep now..."_

 _._

* * *

.

The Courier rotated as he fell and slipped right through the deathclaw's grasping arms. As soon as his boots touched the ground, Denn shadowed the creature's movement through the air and slapped the two stun batons simultaneously against its leg right before it landed, causing tens of thousands of volts to explode into the flesh beneath. The deathclaw roared as its muscles clenched painfully, turning its nimble descent into a crashing fall as its leg failed to support its weight.

The backhand of the second deathclaw slammed against Denn's side, sending the Courier flying through the air to crash face-first against the wall at the far end of the arena. The creature followed after the unintentional, living projectile, its posture low and to the ground as it methodically stalked its off balance opponent. Rolling back, the Courier reclaimed his footing and as soon as he had done so, charged right at the approaching deathclaw.

The creature swung first, deadly claws spread wide in an attempt to clip its smaller adversary and steal his footing once again, but the Courier turned his charge into a slide and slipped just under the wild blow. Swinging his arm out wide, Denn attempted to hit the deathclaw as he passed, but his strike met only air. As soon as its blow had failed to land, the deathclaw leapt slightly into the air and turned out of the Courier's reach. The movement was awkward, given the creature's bulk, and it landed badly - forced to use both claws to halt its momentum.

Before Denn could pursue the monstrosity, the first deathclaw rejoined the fray, slamming its fist into the prone courier and driving him into the ground. Roaring angrily, the deathclaw grabbed the Courier and brought him towards its gaping maw, allowing the man to jam one of his stun batons past the creature's vicious teeth and into its mouth. The teeth ripped through Denn's flesh, but his weapon set against the deathclaw's lower jaw, forcing it open and pumping its electrical current directly into the creature's skull. Almost instantaneously, the deathclaw's roar turned into a furious yelp, and it dropped to Courier to slap uselessly at its mouth, trying to dislodge the piece of metal and put a stop to the blazing agony lancing through its head.

The Courier rolled as he hit the ground, yanking off a strip of material from the the armor on his forearm, causing the fabric beneath to tighten in a ring around his arm.

Instinctively, Denn dove forward once again, saving his life as the second deathclaw raked through the armor on his back and into the flesh beneath. The blow disrupted the Courier's intended trajectory and sent him tumbling to the ground, his adversary not far behind.

Pulling a small disk from his belt, Denn threw it into the air between him and the deathclaw. The disk exploded with a blinding flash of light and a furious roar of sound. The deathclaw grunted in pain, but continued with its attack, stabbing its claws into the Courier... or where the Courier should have been.

Denn grimaced as he put his back to one of the pillars of the arena - the impact with the concrete sending reminders muffled by the medex pumping through his system of the cuts running up his spine. He glanced around the side of the pillar and watched the second deathclaw swing wildly at the air around it. The creature was likely blinded and deafened by his flashbang grenade - as was most of the crowd above, Denn realized humorlessly.

The deathclaw interrupted Denn's musing as it stopped attacking the air wildly, turned in his direction, and began to sniff the air intently.

"Never lucky," the Courier lamented, taking aim with his remaining baton and sending it flying through the air. The weapon spun as it flew, struck the creature between the eyes handle first, and only served to surprise and annoy the focused creature. The next projectile, a weighted throwing knife slicing through the air before embedding itself into the monstrosity's nose, was not as ineffective.

Another knife followed the first, but the deathclaw lifted its hands before its face defensively and began to stalk towards the source of the spinning weapons. Denn threw one more blade at the creature before charging towards it. The deathclaw - either regaining some of the functions lost to the flashbang or aided by another predatory insight - sensed the Courier's approach and prepared to strike out, but its perception of the world was still too clouded to intercept the adversary flying towards it feetfirst. Denn slammed into the blade protruding from the deathclaw's nose and his momentum combined with the displacement emitters in the soles of his boots embedded the weapon deep into the creature's flesh, the knife cutting through its nasal cavity before erupting out the top of its mouth.

As the Courier rebounded from his attack, the deathclaw turned and sent its tail cutting through the air. The blow landed at the center of Denn's chest and sent him once more flying through the air to crash against the arena wall. The impact caused Denn to cough blood into his re-breather and he tore the apparatus from his face before it became more of a liability.

The second deathclaw was approaching, its strides lengthening as it began to regain its confidence - as well as its senses. The first deathclaw remained incapacitated, but for how much longer, Denn couldn't be sure. He had to even the odds as much as possible. He had to take the first deathclaw out of the fight completely, while he still could.

The second deathclaw growled angrily and charged at the Courier, further reducing his window of opportunity. If he made it past the charging monstrosity, he could kill its kin... or he could run.

He could turn and climb out of the arena - escape this vicious creature that could very well end his life in the next few seconds.

He could just leave.

A knife rushed through the air towards the charging deathclaw, followed by another, and then the Courier himself.

His only path was forward.

The pain was dull as the creature drove two of its claws through his shoulder. The impact of his knife slicing upwards, cleaving the deathclaw's fingers from its body, was slight - the impossibly reflective metal cutting through bone and flesh. The monstrosity's roar was muffled as he cut its thigh open from hip to knee, driving his blade's point deep and ripping it to the side when upper and lower leg met. The deathclaw's teeth sunk into his side, his knife sunk into its jaw, and then he was free.

The Courier charged towards the first deathclaw, leaping atop its prone form and bracing his foot against the top of creature's mouth, preparing to drive the still sparking stun baton deep into its skull.

A desperate cry stopped him cold.

His eyes wide, Denn turned towards the second deathclaw behind him. The creature knelt on the ground, its body propped up by its uninjured arm. It cried out again, its desperate keen piercing through the otherwise silent arena.

Its eyes met the Courier's.

Recordings of the deathclaws native to the Mojave played out in the Courier's mind. Intelligent, dangerous. Hunted as packs. Hunted - killed - indiscriminately.

The deathclaw's cry interrupted Denn's train of thought.

The Courier stared at the kneeling monstrosity and made a choice.

He stepped off the creature below him.

In complete silence, Denn walked towards the kneeling deathclaw. Bleeding, one arm immobile from the claws embedded in his joint, the Courier moved within the creature's reach. He stopped just before its face, his eyes even with the deathclaw's.

The creature snorted. The Courier didn't respond.

The creature shifted its weight. The Courier grabbed one of its horns and yanked its head down, exposing its neck.

The creature froze. The Courier leaned towards it, his face a breath away from the creature's vicious teeth.

The two figures stayed locked as the moments passed. Finally, the deathclaw tore its eyes away from the Courier. Turning its head farther to the side, it bared its neck towards him - submitting.

The Courier released the deathclaw, turned his back to it, and began to walk towards the other creature at the center of the arena. He could almost feel the deathclaw behind him tense, but it made no attempt to follow. Reaching the prone monstrosity, Denn carefully lifted open it's mouth and reached inside, deactivating the stun baton. The deathclaw groaned, and the Courier pulled the weapon from its mouth.

Not bothering to look behind him, Denn made his way towards the metal gates of the bloodstained battlefield.

The audience on the walkways above watched in stunned silence as the Courier exited the arena, leaving two deathclaws defeated - but alive - behind him.

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 **10,000 views. Thanks for reading everybody!**


	30. Filler

.

* * *

 _._

 _"What did you do to her?"_

 _"I did what I had to."_

 _"What you had to?_ _ **You opened up her skull and fucked with her head!"**_

 _"She was dying."_

 _ **"And the alternative is better?**_ _Who is going to be there when she wakes up? Veronica, or your closest approximation of her?"_

 _"I'm not going into this blind, Gannon. The tests have been-"_

 _"Oh, so because the lobotimization process lets you turn rapists and cannibals into docile cattle means you can do the same to your friend?"_

 _"It isn't the same!"_

 _"_ _ **How do you know?!**_ _"_

 _"I wasn't going to let her die!"_

 _"_ _ **YOU ARE NOT A GOD! YOU DO NOT GET TO DICTATE-**_ _"_

 _"I will not let my friends die if it is in my power to save them._ _ **"**_

 _"_ _ **AT WHAT COST TO THEM?! AT WHAT POINT ARE YOU ACTING LIKE OUR CREATOR? CONTROLLING HOW WE LIVE, HOW WE SLEEP, HOW WE-**_ _"_

 _"Gannon. It's spreading."_

 _"What? What is?"_

 _"Veronica's condition."_

 _"To who?"_

 _"You."_

 _"What? How is that-"_

 _"You're talking in your sleep, Gannon. The same words Veronica screamed before we put her under."_

 _"How do you-"_

 _"I can show you the tapes. It's getting worse."_

 _"I don't feel any-"_

 _"Different?' Bullshit. Something is wrong, and if you deteriorate as extensively as Veronica-"_

 _"You want to cut me open."_

 _"I have to stop this before it gets any worse."_

 _"Uh-huh. What if I refuse?"_

 _"This isn't a choice. I'm sorry Gannon, but I'm putting a stop to this. This world needs you more than it needs another corpse."_

 _"Is it really about saving me? Or can you just not stand the prospect of you being to blame for one of your friend's death?"_

 _"Beyond the fact that I killed a friend at Hoover Dam, it doesn't really matter either way. I'm going to save you."_

 _"Or at least pretend you did."_

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* * *

.

 **Moving, in combination with a severe case of "what the fuck am I doing" have led to the delay, in which I've basically scrapped the entirety of chapter 29. Didn't like how it was blocking out, but I'm still working at it! Just wanted to touch base and write something at least.**

 **Wee bit of explanation/response to a review:**

 **The Lovecraftian parts of Fallout have always been an interesting element, as were the presence of psykers, but in the grand scheme of this story they were... inconvenient, I suppose. I wanted to touch on their existence and acknowledge their presence, because their influence is quite substantial.**

 **Farsight, even limited, is a huge boon and something the Courier would have access to with the Forecaster being in the Mojave. Ug-Qualoth, and whatever other entity that is about, has potentially dramatic effects for anything it interacts with.**

 **They both exist in Fallout, and still exist in this story, but their influence won't have any more impact than they already have.**

 **Sorry for the wait! Chewing away on the next chapter as much as I can.**


	31. Chapter 29

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* * *

 _._

Veronica's whistled lowly as the Courier exited the arena, leaving the two deathclaws lying in the sand behind him. Leaning back from the screen, the former scribe hit the pause button on the remote by her bed and the recording froze. Veronica squinted at the ceiling as she ran through the events she had just witnessed before taking a long draw from a bendy straw stuck into a plastic cup. She grimaced at the foul liquid that was, supposedly, good for her.

"What flavor even is this?" She asked indignantly.

"I haven't gotten around to adding flavor to it," Denn replied, taking the cup from her hand and popping open its lid to sniff at its contents. "Any suggestions?"

"Seeing as drinking it straight is probably about as enjoyable as gargling sewage... I'd say there's little you could add to make it worse."

"Is that a challenge?"

"As long as you drink it first, sure. Any-who... how'd you know the deathclaw wouldn't attack you? After you took the spark-spark-stick out of its mate's mouth, I mean."

"Call it a hunch... or call it a educated guess based off the observation of the four major deathclaw packs that reside in the Mojave and the hierarchy based on strength each pack is built upon. "

"Of course! Though I'm guessing the main thing that you should have learned from that observation was 'don't go into a pit with two deathclaws."

"Hey, it worked out alright."

"Ya-huh... What happened next?"

The Courier picked up the remote and began to fast-forward through the recording. "The crowd does as crowds do, I go to my ready room and start to pull the claws out of my shoulder with Boone's help, Red Lucy comes and tells me I have been challenged, I come back into the arena and-"

.

* * *

.

The crowd above was relatively quite, but the excited whispers that could be heard betrayed the latent excitement. Denn moved to the center of the arena and put his arms behind his back, standing at ease in front of the man who had, apparently, issued the challenge that had brought him from his ready room.

Intricate tattoos traced the challenger's frame served to accentuate his well practiced muscles and as he stretched, the black lines shifted and curved in the half-light of the arena. His eyes were locked on the Courier, and the hunger Denn saw in the gaze reminded him of Red Lucy during their engagement at the top of the Lucky 38.

"Are you ready, Courier?" the challenger asked, his words reverberating from his throat like slabs of granite grinding against one another

"Red Lucy tells me you would see my strength," Denn responded. "Was my fight with the deathclaw's not enough?"

"For most, yes. I would see more."

"If you would see my strength would you not see me healed? Set yourself against me when I am at my most capable?"

"The wasteland doesn't test us when we are at our strongest. It doesn't wait for our wounds to heal, for our body to become whole. I would see your strength, Courier, when you are at your weakest."

Denn grinned beneath his rebreather, and after a moments thought, pulled the apparatus from his head. "What is your name?" he asked his challenger.

"Quinn," the man replied.

"As you will, Quinn," the Courier said, letting his practiced intonation fail as his ravaged vocal chords forced the words from his throat.

"Test me."

The words were a muted roar as Denn charged towards his opponent.

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* * *

.

"Quinn is a stupid name," Veronica quipped, grimacing once again as she swallowed another mouthful of the vile, healing liquid.

"I'm sure he would say the same about Veronica," the Courier replied, smiling.

"Most people do. So why'd you pause it?"

"What happens next isn't exactly... pleasant. While I wasn't 'at my weakest,' I wasn't doing too hot after the deathclaws, and since I was faced by someone of unknown ability..."

"This doesn't end well for him, does it?"

.

* * *

.

Quinn screamed in pain as his shoulder ripped free of its socket. A blow to back of his head sent him sprawling to the ground where the Courier drove a heel into the fallen man's thigh with inhuman strength.

.

* * *

.

"Eww," Veronica exclaimed as Quinn's femur snapped.

.

* * *

.

The Courier pulled the syringe from Quinn's neck and stepped back, wincing in sympathy at the man. His concoction would keep the man unconscious until he could get him to the Lucky 38 to keep the injuries from becoming permanently debilitating, but in the meantime...

"Some of you may have heard rumors of what I plan for the Mojave," Denn began, raising his voice. "That I plan to rule as House ruled. That I plan to force my will on those I view as beneath me. That I will treat this land and its people as my personal playthings."

The Courier paused and turned towards Red Lucy, "That is not the case. This world, this wasteland, was created by humanity hundreds of years ago. Through the choices of our past the hell we are forced to live in was brought into existence. Since then we have struggled to survive. Since then we have been at the mercy of an uncaring, and unforgiving entity.

"I mean to change that. We have survived this wasteland, but our strength has been tempered long enough. I am not content to merely survive - to have my life dictated to me by the wasteland. I will claim this world. I will choose how I live, how my children live, how my friends and allies live, and I will strike down those who would stand in my way. It is in my power to shape my place in the world, and if you stand with me, you will have that power as well.

"I plan to strengthen the Mojave. I plan to bring its people out of the cities and shelters where they hide and give them the power to take what was taken so long ago. I plan to grow in strength myself, to become unassailable by those who would see me fail.

"Join with me, and this wasteland will be ours."

.

* * *

.

"I liked it," Veronica said, smiling as she opened the top of her cup and realized she was finished with the vile tonic it once contained.

"You're sure? It wasn't too... I don't know..."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. Super dramatic. But for Westside I think you have to be."

"Ah-huh."

"So how'd it do?"

"The speech? Well, I've promised to provide Securitrons for defense based on the number of volunteers each community provides, and Westside is receiving the lion's share of them so... I think it went well."

"That and they probably want to learn how to beat up Quinn."

"Might be." The Courier smiled. "How're you feeling?"

"Honestly? Kinda overwhelmed. You've got plans for me, don't you?"

"Only when you're ready. Honestly, you deserve something of a vacation. The Lucky 38 is at your disposal."

"Even the manufacturing level?"

"I suppose..."

"Good. I've wanted to tinker with that stuff since before I even knew it was there."

"Fair enough."

.

* * *

.

"I don't like this," Cass stated.

"You think any of us do?" Boone asked quietly, looking through the one way mirror at the Courier and Veronica as the former Scribe began going over her plans for the creation of new technologies. "You saw what was happening to her and what it did to Gannon. Denn thinks he's taken care of it, but if they're made aware of what happened it could cause a relapse and..."

"I know what he said. I know what could happen. I just..."

"You don't like it."

"No. How do we know if she's going to be ok? Or if Gannon is even going to wake up?"

"We don't, but Veronica did, and she seems to be herself."

"How did he do it?"

"Personally? I don't care."

"Really?"

"As long as Veronica and Gannon are safe, no. They were dying, Cass. Denn saved them."

Cass sighed, her gaze locked on the smiling woman on the other side of the glass.

.

* * *

.

"So when do you start recruiting?"

"Already started. We've taken the most skilled of the volunteers, as well as selected members from the Kings and other communities who were required to provide soldiers, and they'll be trained as officers."

"Trained by whom?"

"You remember Moreno?"

"Nope."

"Old guy, super gruff, runs around in power armor?"

"Oh! The Remnant?"

"That's the man."

"Those poor volunteers..."

"Right? He'll be leading the training exercises and be in charge for the most part. I have elements from the Boomers who will provide explosive's training, Red Lucy will be in charge of survival training, Raul will be teaching weapon maintenance and so on and so forth.

"Sounds like they'll be giving it the good old college try. Any standout 'applicants?"

"Well..."

.

* * *

 **"Name?"**

"Sunny Smiles."

 **"Home community?"**

"Goodsprings."

 **"Experience?"**

"Firearms, wasteland survival, a little bit of weapon maintenance."

 **"Age?"**

"Nineteen."

 **"Any questions?"**

"Can I bring a dog?"

 **"No."**

"Shoot..."

.

* * *

 **"Name?"**

"Harland."

 **"Last name?"**

"Just Harland."

 **"Home community?"**

"Novac? I guess?"

 **"Experience?"**

"Survival, Firearms, hand-to-hand, construction, I could go on."

 **"Age?"**

"Not sure anymore. I stopped counting."

 **"Any questions?"**

"Will the entirety of this training be done through robots?"

 **"No."**

"Just this bit, then?"

 **"No."**

"No?"

 **"No."**

"Alright then..."

.

* * *

.

 **"Name?"**

"Uh, Phillip Lem."

 **"Home community?"**

"The Strip."

 **"Experience?"**

"Explosives and... well Cardio I guess?"

 **"Age?"**

"Twenty-two."

 **"Any questions?"**

"Are the names of volunteers public knowledge?"

 **"No."**

"Good..."

.

* * *

.

 **"Name?"**

"Alice Hostetler."

 **"Home community?"**

"The Strip."

 **"Experience?"**

"Hand-to-hand."

 **"Age?"**

"18."

 **"Any questions?"**

"No."

.

* * *

.

 **"Name?"**

"Melissa Lewis."

 **"Personal Override: We look forward to working with you."  
**

"Neat."

.

* * *

.

 **"Name?"  
**

"Simon."

 **"Individual Recognized. Associate of the Van Graff Family."**

" _Former_ associate of the Van Graff family."

 **"Additional screening Required."**

"That's fine with me."

.

* * *

.

 **"Name?"**

"James Korvic."

 **"Home community?"**

"The strip."

 **"Experience?"**

"A little bit of everything."

 **"Age?"**

"18."

 **"Any questions?"**

"No."

.

* * *

.

"Lovely band of missfits."

"Aren't they?"


	32. Chapter 30

.

Cass pushed the last of her steak listlessly across her plate, frowning in silence at the seasoned meat. Around her, the dining room of the Tops was a flurry of activity. Waiters rushed to and fro, and individuals dressed in the finest of pre-war fashion engaged in lively conversation.

NCR businessmen had started to return to the strip, and with them saw the return of the pretentious elitism that had eventually driven her from that territory. Bunch of shit-nosed, egotistical...

Cass sighed. She wanted a drink.

Well... another drink, she mused darkly as she stared down the empty cup set above her plate and the steak that continued to meander across it. As nice as it would be to indulge herself, she had places to be in the morning and it wouldn't do to further burden her mental capacities with a hangover.

A tap on her left shoulder robbed her train of thought, but when she turned to look in that direction, she could find nobody near enough to be the source of the touch. A moment later a pair of arms wrapped around her neck and raven hair pushed against her check.

"Got you," a familiar voice stated, muffled against her neck.

"You little shit," Cass muttered, a smile finding its way onto her face as she leaned into the embrace. "What are you doing here?" she asked as the newcomer released her and moved to sit in the chair beside her.

"Got tired of the gilded cage," Veronica replied, reaching over and snatching the morsel of steak from Cass' plate. Before the caravaneer could protest, Veronica popped it into her mouth and began to chew happily. "Oh that's good."

"I know. It's why I ordered it."

"What is it?"

"Bighorner."

"Really? What's the Tops doing with Bighorner meat?"

"Trade agreement with Jacobstown."

"Oh! Is that why there's a super mutant sitting at the slots over there?"

As if in response, a series of excited beeps and shrill whistles burst to life, followed by a deep laugh and the sound of heavy hands clapping together. Cass glanced behind her at the smiling super mutant as coins began to cascade into the machine's hopper before him. The outburst drew many concerned glances from the individuals sitting in the dining room, but Cass could see a fair amount of smiles from those at the slots, and one woman even congratulated the happy super mutant.

"Partly," the Redhead answered through her own smile. "Denn has the more stable residents of Jacobstown wandering around the strip acting like its a perfectly normal thing and the families all have orders to act like it's business as usual. Helps people become 'acclimated to their presence,' apparently."

"Makes sense," Veronica replied.

"Damn condescending if you ask me."

"How so?"

"It's the same process used to introduce a new handler to a brahmin herd."

"Hey, some of my best friends have been brahmin."

"At least they had good taste."

"Some of them literally... that was a rude realization after dinner one night."

"It was probably your friendship that enhanced the flavor."

"That or the food I snuck them. Surprisingly, the Brotherhood doesn't feed their livestock particularly well."

"That's not as surprising as I think you think it is," a gravely voice interrupted from behind. Cass turned and nodded a greeting to Raul who responded in kind as he moved past her and leaned down to give Veronica a quick embrace. "Good to see you out and about," the elderly ghoul said happily.

"Good to be out and about," Veronica replied, winking at Raul as he sat beside her opposite Cass. "How goes maintaining ye' olde tower?"

"Steadily. I may be an old ghoul, but I'm managing things well enough. Plus any questions I have can be answered by Mr. Yes."

"I like that. 'Mr. Yes."

"Thought you would. I'm running out of work, though. Boss has his new hands taking care of most of my work."

"New hands?"

"Shiny ones. I can't say anything more."

"Oh right," Veronica said, shifting her eyes around the dining room suspiciously and touching the side of her noes. "Wouldn't want anybody listening in to learn about the Courier's upcoming shiny hands."

"A state secret," Raul replied, frowning studiously and nodding his head. "Those new hands will be very helpful."

"Especially with how shiny they are."

"What fella wouldn't want shiny new hands?" A individual asked as he walked towards the companion's table with a cane and a limp.

"The Top Tops man himself!" Veronica said, grinning up at the be-suited newcomer.

"It's good to see you back on the strip," Benny said through his smile, nodding in turn to the companions.

"I thought you didn't do that anymore," Veronica quipped, reaching up and waving her hand in the general direction of Benny's face. Cass smacked the former Scribe's hand and shook her head helplessly.

"It's a hard habit to break, if I do say so myself," Benny replied, and Cass thought she could see the muscles in his face contort in a wink behind his opaque glasses."Is there anything I can help you with this fine evening?"

"More steak," Veronica answered.

"More steak?"

"More steak."

"More steak it is."

Benny turned and a hustling waiter almost crashed into him before he took a step back and let the apologizing staff pass by unobstructed. As Benny walked away Veronica squinted suspiciously at him.

"I don't think he's actually blind," she stated.

"I'm sure that he would be happy you think that," Cass replied, taking the chance to glance behind her. A lone businessman a few tables away twitched and suddenly became very interested with his menu.

"Oh! Somebody's watching us?" Veronica said, having noticed the response Cass had caused. "Let's watch him too, just in case."

"That would be fairly interesting," Cass stated, turning back to the table and winking at Raul. "That fellow is from New Reno."

"Oh! Turf war!"

"Nothing so dramatic. He's trying to get into talks with the Omertas."

"The Omertas? Why?"

"Judging by the 'exports' New Reno has I can guess his reason," Raul replied knowingly.

"What exports? They're like New Vegas but without a Courier."

"Let's just say they produce something I consumed a fair amount of in my pre-war adolescent years."

Veronica frowned for a moment, and then her eyes lit up and her mouth opened in shock. "Porn!" she all but shouted.

The conversations from the closest tables stopped and a fair number of eyes turned towards Veronica.

"I bet lady Stone has been pretty uncooperative," Veronica replied, ignorant of the stares directed her way.

"You'd be correct," Cass replied, raising one eyebrow at a particularly prudish looking couple seated at the table closest to their own. "In fact, from the Omertas' recent purchases it seems like they're going into business for themselves."

Veronica blinked at Cass. "I wonder if Denn had considered that eventuality."

"He certainly has the body for it I suppose," Raul replied seriously, "but I think that'd be a 'worst-case' scenario. I would be a pretty good fluffer if it came down to it."

"What's a fluffer?"

"Don't worry about it."

"No, really, what's a fluffer?"

"What's a fluffer?" Boone echoed as he approached the table, his lips canted in his slight smile as he nodded at Veronica and sat opposite her.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Raul answered.

"Unlikely... How are you feeling, Veronica?"

"Like a million fluffers!" Veronica replied happily.

"No... no," Raul said, his head in his hands.

"What does fluffer mean!?"

"What are you doing back at the strip? Is it my turn to head down there yet?" Raul asked Boone, ignoring Veronica's question.

"Not yet. Officially, I'm reporting to the Courier on the status of the United Mojave's first bootcamp," Boone answered.

"How is that going by the way?" Cass interjected.

"Well. Moreno drives hard, but after the first week we haven't had any discipline issues."

"What happened the first week?"

"Four broken arms and a fractured skull. They got the point after that."

"Think it will work?"

"Moreno knows what he's doing. I think we'll turn them into something respectable eventually."

"And the unofficial reason you're here?" Veronica asked.

"Classified," Boone replied, winking at the former Scribe. "But I think he also wanted to give me a chance to see you. He's the one who told me you were out and about."

Veronica scowled. "I was trying to sneak out."

"Why didn't you were a disquise then?"

A waiter appeared, interrupting Veronica's reply as he placed four steaks before the assembled companions and took their order for drinks. Cass stuck with water.

"This smells amazing," stated Veronica almost reverantly, before she and her companions continued their conversation between bites of carefully prepared meat.

.

* * *

.

"Thanks again, Benny."

"Anytime. Apprecite the heads up on Boone. Why don't you drop by yourself? Meat's fine and the music's poppin."

"I wouldn't make it through the door. Too many people looking to get a word with me."

"Could sneak you in the back?"

"I appreciate it, but I've got work to do."

"When won't you? Gotta take a break sometime."

"Not if I can help it. Have a good night, Benny."

"Yeah, well, same to you. I'm sending over one of these steaks and if you don't try it I will see it as a personal offense."

"Fair enough."

Denn cut off the communication and turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Gannon lay before him. Still. silent.

Denn gripped the side of the surgery table, tears running freely down his face.


	33. Chapter 31

_"Good morning, General Oliver!"_

"Shut the fuck up."

 _"The weather is a balmy 98 degrees without a cloud in the sky! Wonderful day to get out and have picnic with the missus!"_

"I said shut the fuck up."

 _"Well ok then! Guess I won't tell you your release has been negotiated!"_

"About fucking time."

" _I couldn't agree more!_ _"_

 _._

* * *

 _._

 _Mobilization in the arid climate of the Mojave remains the chief concern in the development of appropriate combat loads for the rank and file soldiers of the United Mojave. While the majority of individuals of the area are well adjusted to the heat, strenuous movement with the necessary equipment for combat over long periods of time will lead to severe problems. During the hottest hours of the day, it is best to seek shelter from the sun, but in a combat scenario, that will not always be an option. Anything able to mitigate the dangers of overheating will allow the soldiers of the Mojave to carry more equipment on their person as well as increase their personal ability during-_

"Veronica."

The former scribe twitched in surprise as her name snapped her attention from the terminal in front of her. She looked around her room for a moment before realizing the Courier's voice had come through a speaker. "Yes? What's up?"

"There's a Legion force moving into the Mojave from the south. Would you mind coming up to the observation room?" the Courier asked.

"How many of them?"

"A fairly substantial number, all things considered. Sooner rather than later would be appreciated."

"On my way."

Veronica pushed away from her desk and moved out of the room, apprehension building in the pit of her stomach.

.

* * *

.

"Don't you have eyebots who can do reconnaissance?" Boone's asked, his voice muffled by a heavy metal door.

Veronica entered the observation room and found Cass, Boone and the Courier standing over a large table with a digitally recreated map of the Mojave projected upon it.

"I've sent two, but somehow the Legion has been disabling them. Until I can ascertain how they are doing so, I am unwilling to risk loosing additional eyebots," Denn replied.

Veronica moved to stand beside Cass and nodded to her. The redhead returned the gesture, worry creasing her eyebrows as she smiled at the former scribe.

"So we're looking at anywhere from six to seven hundred _Legionaires_ moving on Novac."

"Potentially, yes. I sent Securitrons from the Mojave Outpost to reinforce the ones there and to Primm as well, but if my hypothesis on how they are disabling the eyebots is correct, they might not be enough."

"The Legion could try to go behind Primm towards the correctional facility," Veronica interjected, tracing a line across the table creating a series of red dots leading North. "You've got the remainder of the Fiends set up there. The Legion might look to boost their numbers."

The Courier nodded his agreement. "That's a possibility. If the Legion reach the facility, it's probable they would outfit the Fiends and set them loose on the Mojave. While I move to keep the communities safe, the Fiends would in turn run rampant, and if chaos hits the area, the NCR will realize that my forces are not as numerous as they thought and make a move themselves. As such, I will be taking direct action. Boone, Cass, you will be serving as recon. Veronica will remain at the Lucky 38 on standby to provide tactical support."

"I'm healed up enough for another fight," Veronica stated.

"Be that as it may, I need somebody to remain at the Lucky 38 in case this is an attempt at misdirection. If another attack happens elsewhere, I need somebody ready to react. You're that person."

"Really think that's gonna happen?" Cass asked.

"I didn't think the Legion could recover this quickly. I'd prefer to take as few chances as possible moving forward."

"So what's the plan?"

"I've been preparing modified Entrant platforms to fight against the Legion. I had hoped to test them more extensively, but there isn't enough time."

"Entrants? You mean those guys you have walking around the Lucky 38? Not exactly combat ready from what I can see..."

"Also, won't whatever they're doing to disable your eyebots also disable them?" Veronica asked.

"Only briefly. They are nowhere near as complex as other platforms, and are designed with shielded systems. As to their combat capabilities... Report from Novac, there are sounds of conflict from the South. It appears the Legion are moving through Deathclaw territory."

"Why?" Boone asked. "There's plenty of clearer paths towards-"

"It appears that their target is the REPCON test site. We're leaving."

"What's at REPCON?"

"My Eyebot production line."

"Does the Legion know that?"

"Given the risk they are taking to go straight there... probably."

"How?"

"Many possible explanations - none of them good. Daisy is on her way - be ready to liftoff in ten minutes."

.

* * *

.

The deathclaw drove it's hand down towards the prone _Legionaire,_ ramming its claws through his chest and into the ground below. The soldier screamed and hacked uselessly at the creature as his lifeblood seeped into the dirt. Distracted by the dying Legion soldier, the deathclaw didn't notice a distorted shadow closing on it until a blade with an edge of blue energy materialized and detached its roaring head from its shoulders. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as dancing sparks rippled up the blade and revealed a figure adorned in reflective plates of ebony colored armor.

The Legion soldier, still pinned to the ground by the now-headless deathclaw reached towards the figure and desperately tried to form the words to plead for salvation. Instead of words, only blood passed his lips, and as he died the figure stalked away as it once again became enveloped by shadows.

Nearby, another Legion soldier danced away from a limping deathclaw. Naked from the waist up with dark red tattoos covering his chest and back, the soldier gripped a spear tightly with one hand and jabbed it towards the deathclaw, enticing it forward. The tattooed soldier's dance caused him to bump into a _Legionaire,_ and without a moment's hesitation, he shoved his ally towards the deathclaw. The _Legionaire's_ cry of surprise ended abruptly as the deathclaw pulled his body in two, and as the pieces of the corpse fell to the ground, the tattooed soldier leaped forward and drove his spear into the left eye of the deathclaw.

As the deathclaw reared backwards in agony the roar of gunfire ripped through the night and a fusillade of bullets tore into it. In seconds the creature's torso was turned into a meaty pulp as it stumbled backwards.

The tattooed soldier crossed his arms and smiled at the deathclaw, waiting until the fusillade ceased to turn towards its source.

"I think that was a waste of ammunition!" the tattooed soldier quipped, scratching the side of his nose and grinning at the enormous minigun and its equally enormous wielder.

"This is not a game, Catenatus," the newcomer stated as he marched forward and lifted the tattooed soldier into the air with a single hand. "And if you feed any more of my soldiers to these creatura... I will end you myself."

Catenatus jabbed a pointed hand into the seam of the Centurion's armor, robbing the grip on his neck of its strength and allowing him to drop lightly to the ground. "They're all dead anyway, Magnus," Catenatus stated as he danced away from the Centurion's reach. "What's wrong with an early sacrifice if it makes my fight a little easier?"

A furious bellow interrupted their argument as the largest deathclaw either of them had ever seen dropped from the canyon walls fifty meters away and began to charge forwards.

"Besides," Catenatus continued lazily as he yanked his spear from the fallen deathclaw, "I think you still have need of me."

Magnus grunted as his minigun began to whirl to life, but before he could bring the weapon to bear, the air in front of the charging deathclaw rippled and a glowing blade drove itself up and into the creature's open mouth. As the blade pierced the deathclaw's skull, the charging monstrosity's momentum forced it forward onto the vicious edge. By the time the mass of muscle and sinew came to a halt, the glowing blade had completely bisected the deathclaw's neck and embedded itself in its chest.

Slowly the shadows pulled thesmelves from the wielder of the blade and with a single movement, it pulled its weapon free of the corpse and sheathed it at its side.

"Obstructions cleared," the figure stated hollowly. "We will proceed to the objective." Without waiting for a response, it began to walk down the canyon.

"Their deaths are for a good cause, Magnus!" Catenatus quipped, spinning his spear lazily. "Or... they should be, if Caesar really is your god."

"I will see you crucified for your heresy, Catenatus," Magnus swore, moving towards the smaller man.

"Why wait?" Catenatus asked, spreading his arms wide and bowing towards his counterpart as he backed away. "I am sure your Legionaires could handle my Velites, and the pride of your Legion demands my silence. Strike now, Soldier of the 87th Tribe, and doom whatever petty revenge you risk your men's lives for."

"I _will_ have your silence," Magnus growled, dropping his minigun and unsheathing a wickedly-edged machete from his side.

"Then you'll have to take my tongue," Catenatus retorted, dropping into a lazy stance and grinning madly.

The tattooed soldier felt a faint buzzing in the air and twitched backwards reflexively. His heightened senses saved him the full force of the blow that slammed into his side, but the impact still drove him from his feet and sent him sprawling to the ground.

Magnus was not so aware, and with a brtual retort of metal striking metal, the Centurion was sent flying backwards through the air to slam against the canyon wall.

Catenatus hissed and raised his spear to stab at the air above him, but a blade with an edge of blue energy appeared and cut through the shaft of the weapon. Before the tattooed soldier could react, the severed end of his spear was seized in an unseen grip and spun back towards him, its sharpened point pressing against the nape of his neck. A shallow line of blood began to run down his chest.

"We were just talking, madre," Catenatus declared as the ebony armored figure appeared above him. "A minor disagreement on the-"

The point of the spear pressed deeper into Catenatus's neck, silencing him.

"You will cease your efforts to antagonize your ally or I will remove you," the figure stated, it's voice devoid of emotions.

"Then remove me, madre," Catenatus goaded, leaning forward and pushing the spear deeper into his neck. "Do it. I would, and I know me better than you do."

The roar of a vertibird echoed in the distance. Slowly, the armored figure turned in the direction of the interruption and seemed to tilt its head in thought. Abruptly, it pulled the spear tip back and embedded it into the earth beside Catenatus's head.

"We will proceed to the objective," the figure stated.

"After you, madre," Catenatus replied, leaning forward and grinning at Magnus as the Centurion glowered at him and followed after the departing figure. A hand appeared before Catenatus and he used it to pull himself up.

"How did we do?" the tattooed soldier asked, switching from the common tongue of the Legion to the language of his original tribe.

The Velite beside him bared his teeth in a canted grin and responded in the same language. "We fed Magnus' _Legionaires_ to the deathclaws like you ordered. The lion's share of our losses were his loyalists."

"How many?"

"More than a hundred. The creatura were hungry."

"That is good," Catenatus declared through his own canted smile as he stared after Magnus, eyes brimming with unrestrained hatred. "That is good."


	34. Chapter 32

**Two year anniversary! Thanks for sticking around.**

.

* * *

.

"How close is the Legion?" Boone asked into his helmet's microphone as he flicked through the visual sensors the modified piece of armor provided.

"They're likely here, waiting at the edge of the canyon," Denn replied, his voice hollow and metallic through the speaker in Boone's ear. "The eyebot I have trailing them just passed over where they moved through deathclaw territory."

"I assume they suffered substantial losses?"

"An accurate count is impossible due to the nature of the deceased..."

"Torn to pieces, half eaten, passing through a deathclaw's digestion," Cass' voice said quietly through the coms.

"But a rough estimate would be just over a hundred Legion losses," Denn continued once Cass had finished.

"That's promising," Boone stated, "A portion of their forces gone before the fight even starts." Systematically, the sniper ran his gaze over the small field between the REPCON Test Site and the canyon wall. From his vantage point at the top of the facility's observation tower he had a clear view of the entire area, including the newly created mounds spread across it.

Boone shivered as he recalled watching the Courier's new soldiers move into position. Each had dug a furrow into the earth and crouched inside it, throwing dirt and rocks onto their backs as they did so. If he hadn't seen them move into place, it would have been impossible to locate the two-score creations in the faint moonlight.

A mound close to the test site shifted and Cass' com hissed to life as the redhead swore loudly. "Those Entrants of yours are fucking terrifying," she stated.

"Thank you," Denn replied. " Are you and Lily in position?"

"Yeah, we're here. Don't know why I need a babysitter, though."

"Now now, you're here to look after me just as much as I am to look after you," the ancient grandmother's gravely voice replied scolding.

"I know, I know," Cass said.

"Boone, hold your fire until the Legion leadership reveals itself," the Courier ordered.

"Copy that," the sniper confirmed, shaking his head and clearing his mind of distractions to focus on the coming conflict.

.

* * *

.

The clouds permeating the sky above the test site cleared, and with the full moon's light shinning down on the ground below, the Legion made their move.

They knew the Courier's forces would have no problem piercing the darkness of night. They knew that fumbling over the unfamiliar ground with the pretense of stealth would be unnecessarily dangerous. They knew their best chance was to rush and overwhelm the prepared defenses as quickly as possible.

They didn't know the nature of the mounds of earth spread across the field.

As the sprinting soldiers reached the edge of the clearing, the REPCON facility's defenses came to life. Turrets emerged from the building's walls and began firing lines of superheated plasma into the charging forces. The soldiers took cover where the could, but still pressed forward.

A squad of Securitrons emerged from the test site and began firing into the Legion as well as launching tear gas, smoke and flash bang grenades across the battleground. Small arms fire peppered against the Secruitrons' armor and the closest soldiers began throwing improvised explosives towards the lumbering constructions. A pair of the explosives tore through a Secrutiron's reinforced tire and caused it to collapse to the ground with a muted thud. One by one, the Courier's forces began to fall.

In the chaos of the battle the mounds of earth began to stir. Silently, twisted metal figures rose to their feet and began to stalk through the swirling gas and booming flashes of sound and light. Soldiers forcing themselves through the burning vapor met their ends suddenly and without warning - disorientated comrades unwittingly passing mere feet away from the dead and the dying.

To those who had already passed through the smoke the first sign that something was wrong was the slowing of their reinforcements. Runners sent to find out what was happening never returned, and the legion advance slowed as the trickle of reinforcements ceased entirely. No more runners were sent, and the front continued to advance, but more and more soldiers glanced behind their shoulders to the silent wall of billowing gas and smoke.

Then came the screams. From the opaque cloud emerged the anguished cries of men tortured beyond all reason and thought. The cries lengthened, turning from screams of agony to a horrible cacophony of rage and anger, and in a single rush the Courier's created monstrosities - modified Entrant platforms intended to terrify the savage and brutal slave soldiers of the Legion - burst from the smoke and charged towards the front line.

They appeared human - emaciated and frail - but with arms and legs much too long for their gaunt frames. Bits of skin clung to their bodies' in disjointed patterns and the metal bones not covered by the morbid patchwork were coated in freshly spilled blood. Long, crooked fingers ended in broken nails as sharp as any knife and twisted digits twitched erratically, as if trying to grip something immaterial.

The creations moved impossibly quick - the motions utterly unnatural for a human frame to make - with two of the creations even scuttling forward on all fours, and as the creations approached, the Legion soldiers recognized the features on each and every one of the monstrosities' faces.

Caesar.

Twisted in pain and agony with eyes glowing in crafted rage, the face of the Legion's god greeted the terrified Legionaries. The monstrosities' lips cracked and bled, barely concealing hideously long fangs as they screamed at the Legion. The combined keen reached a crescendo as the creations closed the last few meters on the Legion line. One soldier fell to his knees and prostrated himself before the coming tide. In response, a monstrosity drove its clawed hand through his skull and fell upon him, tearing his body limb from limb as the nearby soldiers looked on in horror.

The Legion front line caved. Those closest to the horrors desperately forced their way through the soldiers still fighting the remaining turrets and Securitrons, leaving their confused comrades even more off balance and unprepared as the two score Entrants cleaved into their ranks and chaos consumed the battlefield. Those who stood their ground were singled out by the screaming creations while the rest that fled were cut down by the last of the test site's defenses. The cries of dying soldiers joined the dirge of their butchers as the monstrosities continued their work.

A bolt of dark blue energy lanced out from the billowing gas and slammed into an Entrant kneeling over a dying Legionaire. The monstrosity's roar ended abruptly as it collapsed onto its adversary, and in the next few moments, a trio of identical blasts struck a like number of the Courier's creations.

The sound of Boone's counterattack cracked over the din of battle as the Sniper made out his target with the aid of his helmets sensors. In response, a blindingly bright flare shot up towards his position a momemt later, directing the fire of a roaring minigun that forced the sniper to retreat off the backside of the tower.

A figure burst from the gas, it's ebony armor glowing with increasingly frantic energy as it charged to the center of the Courier's creations. Dodging every attempt to seize it with liquid grace, the figure crouched and spread its arms wide, unleashing a shockwave of dark blue energy that engulfed the remaining Entrants before spreading to the test site, disabling the last of its defenses.

.

* * *

.

"I'm moving to intercept."

"Are you insane? That's the same type of energy that took you out at the dam!"

"I know, but I can't lose this facility and there's a chance that weapon needs time to recharge. Plus, even if I am disabled... Lily, get Cass to safety. Boone, get clear and re-engage when the opportunity presents itself."

"I got clipped by that minigun, will do what I can."

"Good."

.

* * *

.

Legion reinforcements closed on the test site, their mouths covered with thick cloths and their eyes concealed behind makeshift goggles. The ebony figure rose, surveying the battlefield before unsheathing its sword and stalking towards the now silent building.

.

* * *

.

Yes man?

 _Yes?_

Would you kindly wake up my Entrants?

 _I would love to!_


End file.
